


Of The Night

by laurelsalexis



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Identity Issues, Past Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-23 16:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis
Summary: If Alex is a product of London and Spencer is a product of Rosewood who are they really? || s5 au where Spencer finds out about Alex when she's in London.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The execution of the finale was a lot to handle and basically this was born. Picks up when Spencer went to London in 5.21 and 5.22, contains elements from both of those. Will probably weave canon in and out as I see fit. It's going to be a multichapter. The first few chapters are more heavy on the Spencer + Wrencer, but Alex will figure very heavily as it goes on. 
> 
> I do plan on continuing my other PLL fics hat have been on hiatus since last year, but I need to edit them a bit first. So, in the meantime I'll be working on this.
> 
> Oh, I should mention this is kind of a dark fic. I'll be incorporating the dollhouse and all that jazz.

It’s the worst possible time for Spencer to end up in London but she’s there anyway. With no choice in the matter the way her mother simply handed her the ticket and told her she was leaving. As she stands right outside of Oxford, trying to get rid of her blood soaked bag in a panic, she thinks she would give anything to go back home. Not that it’s really safe there, not from **A** , who seems to know everything and anything at all times. She’s in London, _near_ London, for God’s sake. How can **A** possibly know where she is and what she’s up to?

She doesn’t want answers.

She does, in truth. She’s just not sure if she wants the answer to that question. Maybe she just needs to accept the reality that they will never be free and this is their lives. From the start of junior year to the end of senior year. With all of them going off to college maybe it’ll calm. **A** can’t possibly follow them everywhere, can they?

The answer is yes and she knows it.

She calls Aria the first second she can but that conversation only manages to make her more worried than she was before. The text she receives from **A** doesn’t do anything to help matters. She’s distraught, trying not to look suspicious in the streets of London, but thinks it’s not really working. With Mona dead and Alison's pending trial for her murder it doesn’t look like things are looking up for them at all. Quite the opposite.

The feeling of nausea comes over her in a wave and she does everything in her power to not lose it right there. It’s a lot, just like everything else in her life is.

She boards the train ride back to London and she swears it’s the longest ride of her life. She needs to get back to the flat, as Colin so kindly corrected her, and look through her things, desperate to find if there’s anything else in her luggage. No way could **A** be there to fill her suitcase with blood and back in Rosewood to keep an eye on her friends. It only worries her further and she needs to just take a breath, one she’s struggling to find, one that feels like it’s going to dive into a full blown panic all too quickly. No, she needs to remain calm. There’s no use for her to panic.

No panicking. Sounds good.

Her breathing evens as she manages to find herself catching the sight of Wren walking into a pub, without Melissa in sight. It’s odd. Colin told her that they were out of town for some reason or another. Something she didn’t question too much but now seems super odd to her as the door closes behind him. She knows she can simply go home but her feet carry her until she’s walking through the same door he was.

The minute her eyes register the scene in front of her she thinks she should have just went and looked through her luggage.

It doesn’t seem this is what **A** wants her to find, the opposite. Unless Wren is **A** but she doesn’t think that’s the case, especially since he doesn’t even know she’s there for the minute she stands there unable to move.

The girl behind the bar looks exactly like her. _Exactly_. So much like her that Spencer swears she’s going insane and it’s just the anxiety that is filling every inch of her. Otherwise her logical brain suggests she has a twin but that is clearly not the case. Not that it’s totally out of the realm of possibility since she’s standing there looking at the spinning image of her, and the fact that Jason is now her brother since her father can’t seem to keep it in his pants.

Which means one of two things she doesn’t choose to think about.

Spencer is really tired of family secrets.

She swallows as she takes a step forward and the girl behind the bar is staring back at her. She softly hears Wren say, “what?” before turning around and seeing her standing there. Her eyes shift from her spitting image to him but she can’t seem to care the way his face falls into something very Wren when he’s feeling apologetic. He seems like a ghost to her now, keeping such a large secret, and making her feel like she’s two seconds away from crying.

Another thing she’s really tired of.

Her feet only manage to stop when she finds a seat right next to Wren and looking at the girl. She isn’t speaking. None of them are. It’s odd but she’s still trying to register everything. Like the fact that she clearly has a twin sister she never knew before and someone who clearly isn’t as shocked. She doesn’t know what she is but Spencer is shocked...her twin is anything but.

“Vodka soda for her.” Wren orders for her.

She can’t smile even though it reminds her of that dinner they had with Melissa and her father. The night everything turned even more than it had the moment she met him and realized he was different. Different is true as she keeps her eyes glued on the girl as she makes the drink. She doesn’t even know if she wants it but she might need it in order to start speaking.

The drink is set in front of her and she shifts down to it. There’s only a moment before she’s downing the whole thing unable to help herself and looking between her and Wren.

“Alex.” She greets in the thick British accent.

“Oh, uh, _Spencer_.” She imagines she already knows that but says it anyway. “ _Hastings_. I guess that’s not really important.”

“Are you alright, Spencer?”

There’s disbelief that washes over her at the question. Her first instinct is to shove him off the bar stool and tell him to fuck off. She doesn’t. She only turns back to him with a glare that is all Hastings, if she’s even one. She doesn’t know, not when _Alex_ is right there in front of her being a secret identical twin. “Where is Melissa?”

“Visiting a friend in Scotland.”

“So, Colin lied?” It doesn’t seem that important but the amount of lies she can tolerate within twenty-four hours is hitting its limit.

“I asked him to.” Wren slides his drink over to her, a mending if anyone’s ever seen it.

Spencer finishes off his drink before slamming the glass down on the bartop. “A drink won’t make me forgive you.” She isn’t shy about the wrath inside of her since he doesn’t seem able to tell her the truth unless it benefits him. It’s a harsh judgement but it’s one that she doesn’t vocalize so it doesn’t seem to do real harm. “So, how do you two know each other?”

“Came in one day thinking I was you and we got to talking. Showed me your picture. Spitting bloody image.”

“Right.” Is all she can say and focuses on her phone. It feels rude but she can’t help herself. There aren’t any messages from anyone, which is something that is disappointing. She would love a distraction she isn’t getting. “Sorry, I just, can’t do this right now. It’s nice to meet you, really. Identical twin, _wow_. I just...process. You know…” She’s panicking again but not bothering to hide it. It’s something worthy to send her over the edge and she’s taking it.

“Spencer,” Wren calls for her, reaches out to grab her arm, “wait.”

To which she yanks it back. “Don’t touch me, Wren. This is something I expect from Melissa but not you.”

“Melissa doesn’t know.”

“Well, I guess it’s nice to know your profession is just picking the newest sister you meet and putting her above everyone.” Her words come out in a snarl and she storms out of the pub. When he doesn’t follow her she’s grateful. She’ll have to face Wren again. She’s sleeping down the hall from him but maybe by then she’ll actually process something, anything.

She thinks about calling Aria to tell her but thinks better of it. She needs a few more answers before she travels down sharing the information. When a text from **A** doesn’t come she’s almost just as surprised. She thinks that **A** would love to hold this over her head, if it even knows. Knows everything but maybe this one slips through the cracks. Or she’s getting the texts, too. She _is_ her identical twin. When it comes to stalking the visual is likely a distracting factor.

By the time she makes it upstairs all she can think about is the blood. Somehow that ends up being a better distraction than she anticipated. She’s shuffling through everything as fast as she can, searching for the blood and hoping that there is nothing there. praying, almost, and she cannot remember the last time she went to church when someone hasn’t died. Which is more often than one would think since it seems everyone dies in Rosewood.

Colin interrupts her and all she can do is ask him if she can use his laptop to change her flight. She really needs to go home. The only thing that is on her mind. The whole twin sister debacle with Alex is too much for her and the blood is another layer. She needs to go back to Rosewood just so she can...she doesn’t really know what exactly. Something better than sitting there in a country where things are only becoming more of a mess.

She shuffles through things as she tries desperately to make sense of it all. Why didn’t Wren just tell her? It would be so much simpler if Wren just told her. Why didn’t he tell her?

She snaps at Colin for doing nothing but trying to help her. Even goes as far as actually humoring him with his little exercise to calm her down. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that when her eyes close all she can see is blood, Alex, and Wren. She breathes like he tells her to but it doesn’t do much. She doesn’t think it will ever and she needs to fix her problems before the anxiety goes away. Only that has been her life for years now and the idea of it going away doesn’t seem to exist much.

He offers to make her something to eat and she takes it. If only because she isn’t going to get out of there and go home. Spencer isn’t stupid enough to suddenly believe everything is going to work in her favor out of the blue.

It never does.

* * *

“You’re not listening to me, Mom.” Spencer gets more and more irritated as the conversation goes on with her mother, unable to help herself.

“I am listening. You are staying in London whether you like it or not.” Veronica’s tone is definitive.

Spencer knows she’s lost. “I don’t like it.”

“Prep for your interview at St. Andrews.”

“Yeah.” Is all she says before hanging up and throwing the phone on the bed with a frustrated sigh.

She cares about both Oxford and St. Andrews, more than she is letting on. It’s just that with everything going on it all seems far too difficult to focus on college. If **A** follows her around how is she supposed to get through her courses? She isn’t. That’s probably the main objective.

Her phone is left behind as she walks out in the living room to see Colin fixing dinner. He’s nice and she can see why Wren and Melissa like him enough to live with him. She’s only known him the few hours she’s spent in his company but he teaches kids, how bad can he be? It dawns on her that she might have once thought about Ezra in the same way since he was her English teacher for a while, but that took something of a dark turn.

Hopefully Colin isn’t making messes with one of his students.

“Talk to your mum?” He asks just as he grabs two plates out of the cupboard.

“Uh, yeah.” She takes a seat and clasps her hands in front of her. It’s like she wants to say everything but nothing all at the same time. Not as if she can actually divulge any of her secrets but moments find her where she just wishes she could spill everything. Just to someone who has no preconceived notions of her. “Looks like I’m staying.”

“I’d be lying if I said I was disappointed.”

It earns him a smile. A smile that no one else has earned in far too long. Toby isn’t even speaking to her for reasons unknown and she’s not as broken up about it as she should be. Yes, she loves him but their relationship has been steadily falling south when she found out that he was working on the A team. It’s hypocritical given she joined for her own reasons. He is always doing his best to try and protect her only it never manages to protect her. It only manages to make things fall apart just as they did a million times before.

She’s not destined to be happy.

“You teach primary school?” She asks as he sits down once the food is in front of them.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Twenty three kids who do occasionally eat crayons and meltdown.”

“That sounds…” she trails off when she finds there is not really a polite word for it. She’s never envisioned herself teaching, especially small children.

“You never mentioned what you were interested in at Oxford.”

“History or Law. I don’t know.” It happens to be the most honest statement she’s given in quite a while. “My parents are both lawyers.”

“Big shoes to fill.”

Before she can think to reply the door opens and she sees Wren walking through it. Her gaze drops to her plate. She’s not hungry but she eats simply so she doesn’t need to speak. He’s the last person she wants to talk to but doesn’t want Colin to pick up on anything weird going on between them. After all, as far as she is concerned Wren and Melissa are supposed to be out of town with Wren’s boss. Not Melissa elsewhere while Wren walks in and looks between the two of them.

“I tried calling but you weren’t answering.” Wren speaks as he joins them at the table.

Spencer looks up at him and knows her face says something it shouldn’t by the way Colin gives Wren a look. “I left my phone in the bedroom and Colin made us something to eat.”

“There’s more if you’re hungry.” Colin offers Wren.

“Thanks,” he says almost absently but keeps his gaze on Spencer.

When she doesn’t speak he gets up and grabs himself something to eat and rejoins them. Spencer decides it’s the most awkward dinner she’s ever been a part of, which is saying a lot since everything with her family is awkward. She’s the only Hastings sitting there, by some miracle. Knowing her luck Melissa will walk through any moment and wonder what is going on with her and Wren. She is glad, however, that Colin hasn’t seemed to ask.

Instead he’s making polite conversation with Wren about something she’s not concerned with. They were friends, that much was obvious. She just pushes the food around her plate and tries not to think of everything that is going on, which is impossible. She excuses herself the moment she can and disappears back to the bedroom, letting out a breath as she sits down on the edge of the bed.

Her phone is full of missed calls from Wren and not much else. Her mother emailed her the details of her flight and Spencer wishes she can change it. She _can_ , technically. Only her mother ends up changing it right back so it’s not really worth much effort at all.

It takes forty two minutes before there’s a knock on the bedroom door. There’s no surprise when it’s Wren on the other side.

“I’d ask if you wanted to come in but it’s your place, not mine.” She says as she leaves the door open and walks over to the bed.

“I won’t come in if you don’t want me to.”

“It’s fine.” She lies with ease. Definitely used to it.

Wren walks through the door and closes it behind him, stopping in front of her. He’s contained and sheepish, almost. “How did your interview at Oxford go?”

She looks up at him for a moment and wonders what to say. It’s not as if she can tell him that there was blood in her bag, she admitted to as such, and then left without saying a word. She thinks they probably hate her now and she’s on some reject list that must exist. “Your favor went to waste.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Do you care?” She bites at him as she scrolls through her phone looking for anything that can occupy her over looking at him.

“Of course I care.” He sighs softly, leaning against the dresser, arms folded. “I didn’t do just because Veronica reminded me of all the ill grievances I have caused your family. I want good things for you.”

She scoffs, unable to help herself. When she looks up at him her eyes are narrowed and there’s a feeling in her that makes her so mad at him she can’t remember the last time she was so _angry_. For all of the emotions that overwhelm her that isn’t one that is around all too often. Usually it’s fear and anxiety. “You didn’t tell me about my _twin sister_. If you cared you would have told me.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s really not.”

“She asked me not to.” It’s a piss poor excuse but he tries it anyway.

“Right now I understand why my parents hate you.” She understands on the most basic levels all the other days but right now, she sympathizes on a personal level. “You meet her and suddenly it’s her above me? I know I sound like some entitled teenager but you owed me at least that much, Wren. Five minutes matters more than whatever we were.”

“And what were we?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and her anger dissipates just enough that she can look at him without wishing the dresser falls on him. “It doesn’t matter. You’re with Melissa. I’m with Toby. We’re friends, right? I thought we were. We’re not if you didn’t tell me.”

“ _Spencer_ , please ―” When she doesn’t reply he finds a seat next to her on the bed. “You don’t know the whole story. I didn’t keep the secret to hurt you.”

“Then tell me the story.”

“I thought she was you but she told me her name was Alex. We got to talking, I showed her a picture of you, and I don’t have a good explanation for why I didn’t tell you. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I didn’t want to ruin more things for you.”

None of what he says actually manages to make her feel better. She’s not really sure what she feels but she’s holding herself together rather well. She won’t let Wren make her cry. “Why didn’t you tell Melissa?”

“It’s not like that.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Hey,” his touch is gentle against her chin as he turns her to look at him, “it’s _not_. I know I make bloody messes of things with your family. You and Melissa have about as much reason to trust me as your parents do, but I’m very aware she’s not you. It’s clear after five minutes. I felt something for you for more than just your looks.”

Spencer gently grips her hand around his wrist. They shouldn’t be so close. She shouldn’t allow him to keep his hand so she’s looking at him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re sorry.” She barely manages to whisper the words out. “Like you care. Like you’re... _you_.”

“I am all of those things.”

“Why did you get back with Melissa?”

“It just happened.” It’s more of a non answer than anything else. “After Ian, the baby, and everything with you. I was moving back to London and it just...fell into place.” He pauses for a brief moment. “I see you made amends with the carpenter.”

“He’s a cop now.” But she knows his profession doesn’t mean much in the context of their conversation. “We’re not really...speaking. He doesn’t even know I’m here.” He’ll hate her, that’s for certain. Not for going to London, not even for staying with her sister and her boyfriend who obviously lives with her. Just for the way she’s so close to Wren she can feel his breath, the way her hand grips around his and she’s not bothering to let go. It can’t be comfortable holding her there, just as her arms burns a little for holding his wrist, but the alternative is no connection at all. She doesn’t want to be further away from him. For all of that Toby will most definitely hate her, for it being _Wren_ , for everything that is running through her mind makes her the world’s worst girlfriend and sister.

“I’m sorry.” The words are simple as he brushes his fingers along her cheek. “For everything, Spencer. I hope you believe that.”

“You know what they say about hope ―”

“It breeds eternal misery. I remember.”

“I don’t forgive you.” Her hand drops then just as she seems to find some sense. She might forgive him in time, she should, she’ll work on it. It’s all she can offer, not that she says anything aloud. Not when she doesn’t want to give him that hope that things will be what they once were. Whatever they were. “You should go before Colin gets suspicious.”

Wren lets out a sigh but nods. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

* * *

Wren is gone by the time Spencer wakes up to which she thinks that is the best. If she can avoid him until she goes back to Rosewood then she can pretend that none of this ever happened. Not that she’s entirely sure what to do about Alex. She can’t ignore her. They are sisters and she remembers how many times she pushed Jason to get as many answers as she could. That didn’t always go all that well, however. They would end up fighting more often than not. She is curious about what she’s like and everything else. She has more questions than answers.

Her need to go home ends up overriding all of that, however. So much so she’s ignoring the phone call she had with her mother the previous day and using Colin’s laptop to change her flight all over again. She just needs to get out of London before everything becomes more of a mess than it already is.

When Melissa walks in she can barely manage to look her in the eye. Technically, the thinnest _technicality_ that manages to exist, she didn’t do anything wrong with Wren. They were too close and it was too much, but neither crossed any line. Thin, she knows. But the last thing she needs is Melissa mad at her and her parents deciding they are never going to speak to her again. She’s on thin ice with them, that much is obvious. She definitely seems like something of a problem child with all the trouble she’s been getting into lately. They may have a rocky relationship, while lying about her having yet another sibling, but she doesn’t wish for them to hate her more than they likely already do.

It doesn’t take long for her sister to realize that something is wrong. She focuses on her friends and Toby when she asks. Nothing she says is a lie. There is a lot going on with her friends in ways she can’t simply explain to Melissa and she isn’t talking to Toby. She wants to talk to Toby instead of being in some limbo where she doesn’t know what is going on. She wonders if he even realizes that she’s not around.

Probably not.

He doesn’t seem to notice much about her anymore. It’s the job, she knows, but that doesn’t make her feel much better about it.

She decides to stay if nothing but the interview at St. Andrews. She knows that it’s an opportunity she doesn’t want to pass up so she doesn’t. Instead just shuts the laptop and doesn’t miss the way Melissa smiles. A victory for Melissa and a loss for Spencer. She makes a mental note to at least attempt to see Alex while she’s there. They _are_ sisters. It’s still weird to think...that she has an identical twin running around out there in the world and no one managed to tell her. Only finds out by happenstance.

Spencer drags her stuff back to the room she’s staying in so she at least looks decent when she goes on the interview. Toby nags at her until she’s sitting on the bed calling him. She can at least tell him she’s there. Only he doesn’t answer his phone and she thinks this is their new normal. She’ll call and he won’t answer. Even with the time difference she knows he should be awake. It’s odd that being a cop doesn’t make things better for them.

It makes things worse.

She calls Aria next thinking she should at least let her know some of what is going on and get an update as to what is happening in Rosewood. After the incident with Cyrus she worries that things are only going to slide further downhill. Knowing her luck there will be blood when she goes to St. Andrews, too. What kind of blood is anyone’s guess. It’s not like she has a lab on hand where she can secretly test it.

“Spencer, hey!” Aria answers.

It’s good to hear a familiar voice. “How are things?”

“Alison is considering taking the plea.”

“What? She can’t do that.” It’s a new host of problems and only ignites her desire to go home. She needs to talk to Alison or at least talk to Jason who can talk to Alison. She doesn’t really know but then her interview…

“I wasn’t going to tell you but maybe you can call Jason? He’s not listening to me.”

“Uh, yeah.” Spencer doesn’t think she’ll do much better but she can try. “I’ll give Jason a call.”

“Thanks, Spence. Listen I gotta take this history test. Good luck on your interview.”

“Good luck.” She lets out a shaky breath when Aria hangs up and hopes that Alison doesn’t take the plea deal. Jason doesn’t answer when she calls and she’s not surprised. She’ll try again later but she can’t say things have been all that good between that he’ll answer. If he does it’s probably only to tell her to stop calling. She doesn’t even blame him.

When she looks up she manages to see Colin in the doorway. He invites her to go to see Hamlet and she can’t even pretend to contain her excitement. She needs to prepare for her interview but it’s an opportunity she knows won’t fall into her lap again. Plus, she can use the distraction and Colin is nice enough that spending an evening with him is something she genuinely looks forward to.

It’s hours before Colin said they would leave. He goes out to do something and Spencer has no desire to just sit on the couch until seven when she’s in London. She changes into the dress Melissa loans her just in case she doesn’t make it back to actually get ready. She knows herself well enough to know that she’ll probably get distracted.

Wren calls her but she ignores him.

Not that it works. She’s entirely certain he’s stalking her when he ends up next to her when she’s waiting in line for coffee. Also, it’s entirely possible that he happens to work across the street. It’s neither here nor there.

“What do you want?”

Wren leans in, whispering, “We should talk.”

“I’m tired of talking.” To him, at least. She wants to talk to her friends to figure out what is going on. She wants to talk to Jason so he can hopefully talk Alison out of the plea deal. Wren makes her head nothing but fog and she doesn’t need to deal with that. She feels like her skin is burning when he eyes her and she thinks she should have just worn her interview clothes as to not draw attention to herself.

“Are you wearing Melissa’s dress?”

The mental images are nothing she wants to entertain. It took seconds for him to recognize it. “She let me borrow it. I’m going out with Colin tonight.”

“ _Oh_.” The shock is clear, his eyes pulling from her and looking straight ahead in line.

“You don’t like him?”

“I do.”

“Good.” She smiles in an ultra fake way but the Alex revelation makes her want to get under his skin. It’s childish but she doesn’t care. “Thanks,” she manages when he pays for her coffee, no matter how she told him it was unnecessary.

“I didn’t you two were…”

“We’re not.” Colin is nice. That’s as simple as it gets. She loves Shakespeare and to see Hamlet like that...well, she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity if it was Melissa offering to take her. Something odd since she can’t remember the last time they did something together. Probably that time their dad took them to D.C. but even then he had to play referee with them the whole time. “Thanks for the coffee, Wren.”

* * *

Her back hits the wall and she lets out a giggle, unable to help herself, unable to be quiet. He shushes her but it doesn’t work. Instead she tugs him closer and kisses him. Colin and her had a good night, so good that she doesn’t mind the way he’s kissing her, or the way her dress is riding up. It feels like fire, something she desperately _needs_. She’s definitely had something to drink but not enough that she isn’t entirely aware of what she’s doing. She’s being a terrible person but finds it hard to care.

It’s as if everything that keeps happening only breaks her a little more.

His hands are on her body and she feels good. It’s nice to just feel wanted. That’s where it all came from. Someone wanting her when her own boyfriend doesn’t seem to care, more interested in his work. She stops thinking about Toby when the soft moan slips past her lips as she lips move along her neck, pushing her further into the wall.

“Oh, sorry.” Wren voice rings down the hallway.

Colin pulls away from her almost instantly while Spencer fixes her dress. She doesn’t have much heart to look between the two men. She’s not really sure what she feels. All she can know for certain is that her body is buzzing from everything. So much so she really should just go to bed.

“I’m going to go to bed.” She breaks the silence. “Goodnight, Colin. Thank you for tonight.”

She doesn’t bother to say goodnight to Wren and shuts the door behind her. She’s the poster child for bad judgement. Should find a way to pull herself together but she’s in some kind of spiral she can’t really seem to control anymore. She just doesn’t know.

Before she can actually find herself in bed she gets a call from Emily.

“They arrested Hanna.” Is all Emily says before Spencer can greet her.

Her mind is too cloudy to be able to process that. “What? How?” She thinks she has problems with Colin and Wren but back home it’s so much more of a mess. It’s way worse in Rosewood.

“They think she was involved in Mona’s murder. You have to come home.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see if I can catch a flight.”

She sneaks out of her room and hopes that everyone went to bed. Luckily for her that seems to be true as she books herself a new flight for the morning. It’s the earliest one she can get and that’s probably for the best when she’s kind of a mess. She doesn’t need them to ask more questions than she has answers for when she already had the blood incident.

Her plan falls apart when she can’t find her passport the next morning. She manages to shower and gather her things but her passport is just as if got up and walked away. _Melissa_. It’s the only person she can think of. Either that or Wren but she would place more money on her sister. She’s been way too nice. The idea of them ever being close is something she can’t deal with.

Melissa proves her right when everything ends up out in the open and she learns that her mother only wanted her there in case Alison named her as an accomplice in a murder she didn’t commit. The interview is nothing but a ruse, to which she doesn’t understand how no one was going to clue her in on that one. Wren might be trying his hardest to get her one, but that doesn’t mean neither of them would be able to keep the secret.

“I just want my passport.” She crosses her arms and looks between the two of them.

“I’m not giving it to you.” Melissa states in her usual defiant tone. “Look, mom knows what she is doing. We’re trying to keep you safe. If Hanna is arrested and Alison is already there there’s nothing you can do. They’ll just arrest you next.”

“Then they will just arrest me. I’ve been arrested before. Remember?”

“Spencer, they’re just trying to help.” Wren interjects.

“You can’t think this is a good idea.” She snaps at Wren. “Give me my passport and I can leave.”

“No.” Melissa stands her ground. “I’m not telling you where it is and neither is Wren.”

Spencer can’t believe this. She really can’t. It’s not like being stuck in the UK was going to help her out if she was going to get arrested. At that point it seems more likely than not. Her life is a true mess. “Can I at least go outside or do you want to lock me in the spare bedroom?”

Melissa smiles in a victory. “You can go.”

She only ends up glaring at the both of them before she grabs her back and all but storms out of the flat.

The fresh air of London does nothing to make her feel better. She sends a text to Emily that she’s stuck in London until further notice but they can call her if they need anything. She doesn’t think that they exactly will need her seeing there’s nothing she can actually do thanks to Wren and Melissa. The perfect duo.

Her annoyance at them is enough for her to go and see Alex. It’s early and she’s actually kind of surprised she’s there or that the place is even open. If she hadn’t been there she would have had to break down and ask Wren where she lives. He likely knows. He seems to be enjoying telling her absolutely nothing.

When she sits down there’s already a vodka soda waiting for her.

“It’s what he drinks.” Alex comments with a shrug.

“Yeah.” She’s not really in the mood to talk about Wren even if he’s the only connection they have. Other than the fact that they look exactly like. Only Spencer is dressed like she’s going to be going to prep school any minute with her hair down. Alex has more black eyeliner on than Spencer has probably ever used and her clothes are something Alison would make fun of her mercilessly for. She thinks it’s probably better she never met her.

“He cares about.” She breaks the silence as she wipes the bartop down.

Spencer doesn’t help the way she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Right.” The drink is gone almost as soon as it was set there. “Hard to believe when he didn’t tell me about you.”

“Cece hates you. Says you’re awful. All the Hastings are.”

She’s not the least bit surprised when someone hates her family. It’s more likely someone does than doesn’t. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re in your own little rich world with little care for others.”

“It’s complicated.” She doesn’t really blame Alex for her opinion given the way she’s been acting. “I’m sorry about the other. My one friend is prison for murder and my other friend got arrested for being involved in that murder. Wren didn’t tell me about you and...you’d think I’d be used to the sibling thing but I’m not.”

“More about you? Besides Melissa?”

Spencer nods as she grabs her phone and moves to a picture of Jason. “Jason. My dad... _our_ dad,” she corrects herself, “had an affair.”

She hands the phone back. “So, did ya actually murder someone?”

“No.” Not Mona, at least. Her whole summer is still a little hazy. Even with Melissa’s admission that she was the one who buried Bethany...it’s all a little fuzzy. “It’s complicated.”

It’s awkward the longer they talk. There’s nothing that clicks instantly other than a weird feeling she’s staring at a mirror image of herself, which she is, really. The silences are long but she shares her life. Spencer feels bad instantly that she got the better hand in this. No one should treat Alex the way she was treated.

She leaves out a lot of her own details. She doesn’t have the heart to tell her about her Radley stint or the pill addiction. She tells her about Melissa and their never ending feud, tells her about how Ian tried to kill her, and how she was arrested for murder before. Clues her in on the story of Wren that she’s sure gets judgement and even tells her the night before with Colin. She’s leaving out so many secrets and it feels wrong given they are twins. She’s always heard of bonds but having her there...she just doesn’t understand.

“This is Toby.” She shows her a picture. “He’s kind of my boyfriend. We’re not really speaking.”

“Relationship drama?”

“Boring.” Spencer shrugs and Alex doesn’t seem to care much about her boy problems anyway. “You don’t like me much, do you? It’s okay Jason hates me, too, and Melissa.” It sounds rather sad when she puts it that way.

“No, I just...thought you’d be different.”

She doesn’t know what that means nor does she ask. Instead she sips the second drink placed in front of her and rolls her eyes the very moment Wren takes a seat next to her. She really doesn’t want to talk to him.

“I got you an interview at St. Andrews.”

“Joy.” She’s sarcastic and cares little. “Maybe I should just move into the spare bedroom and you can keep an eye on me all the time. Or was the eyeful with Colin last night not enough.”

“See,” Alex beamed, “now this is the sister I wanted. Snarky, sarcastic, _some_ kind of personality. Not the boring prep school girl. You look like a primary school teacher. Take your jumper off.”

“What?”

“Off, off.” Alex leaned across the bar and did it for her. “That’s better.”

Spencer feels kind of exposed in just wearing her random tank top she didn’t think anyone would see. It’s one of her favorites so it’s not that cute but Alex is fun. That’s the major difference between the two. Alex is fun whereas Spencer is uptight. The Hastings way. “Bathroom?”

“To the left. Can’t miss it.”

Spencer walks to the empty bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror. She stares, unable to help herself, looking and wondering. She almost doesn’t even really know who she is anymore. Having a twin sent her on edge, one who is so overly different than her. If Alex is a product of London and Spencer is a product of Rosewood _who_ are they really? She doesn’t clash with her much, but she clashes with Jason and Melissa. Alex probably would, too, and that only manages to make her feel better. Maybe they were just destined to be the odd ones out. So odd that they don’t even fit together.

She grabs her hair in her hand and messes it to mirror Alex’s but that doesn’t feel right with her bare face. She managed to put some mascara on that morning but nothing else. Just her looking in the mirror as she did every morning when she got out of the shower. Wren’s seen her worse though, during her breakdown, so she thinks Alex gets a better vision.

She lets her hair go when the door opens and she moves to walk to a stall but sees it’s Wren. Of course, it’s Wren. She can’t remember ever seeing that much of him in Rosewood but in London, a much larger city, he basically lives two feet from her at all times.

“How long have you know about Alex?” She asks instead of asking why he’s there. She knows why.

“Four months.”

“And you never called?” It was so...Wren, in a way. He’s not really the guy she should put any time into but there he is. She’s always managing to put time into him. “You’re such a...prick.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re a liar.” She snarls. “ _Twin sister_ , Wren. My parents might not even be my parents. I ruined my interview with Oxford. You’re jealous over Colin while sleeping with my sister who might not even be my sister for all I know.”

“Spencer, it’s not like that.”

“It is.” She shakes her head, trying to hold back the tears. “I’m so mad at you I can’t stand it. I want to go home before all my friends end up in jail for murders we didn’t commit.’

When he steps forward she steps back so he only remains in his spot. “This was all for your own protection.”

“What protection? My life is such a mess I ended up in Radley and right now I’m thinking about all the pills I don’t have. At least when I was speeding I felt better. Not like everything was going to fall apart.”

“Drugs aren't the answer.”

“Neither is sleeping through every sister in a family.”

When she walks past Wren he lets her go and she knows she’s pushing him too far based on her own issues.

* * *

“Wren is going with you to St. Andrews.” Melissa informs as she stands in the kitchen going through the mail.

Spencer spent most of her day just roaming around London to see the things she didn’t really get to see. She had a brief phone call with Emily who understood it wasn’t her choice to stay in London and she would tell everyone else. She called Jason one more time but he again, didn’t answer. She’s useless while trapped in London but there’s nothing much she can do so looking around seemed to be the only thing that clears her mind.

While not clearing it at all.

She spent much of her time trying to understand the Cece, Wren, and Alex connection. Only to find herself at the conclusion that Wren knows people she doesn’t in ways that she doesn't. She might know Cece and he might know Cece from the visitor passes, but what that extended beyond Radley is a mystery to her. She does wonder what Melissa has to say about his activities but she doesn’t tell her. Their no secrets pact only lasted a few hours. Not that it matters all that much since Spencer left out what happened between her and Wren in the bedroom.

Not that there’s anything to tell. _Not really._ Conversation that was all too close but nothing that crossed any sort of line.

Still.

She wonders why she bothers to protect him in any way when he’s done her absolutely no favors. Perhaps it’s that he makes her head spin when she’s around him or the fact he’s the only one who knows she has a twin sister. Other than Cece who she hasn’t spoken to since... _forever_. They are not exactly friends. Alison used to say secrets were what kept them close. Sometimes she doesn’t believe it but as she shrugs off her jacket she does believe it.

“Why?” Is all she asks, trying to sound as non suspicious as she can.

“I have to work and Wren doesn’t. Mom doesn’t really think it’s a good idea for you to travel so far by yourself.”

She has to roll her eyes at that one. “Like from Rosewood to London.”

“It’s different, Spencer.” Melissa walks past her. “I know you don’t like being stuck here but Oxford and St. Andrews are both good schools, and Wren did you a favor by setting up the interviews. You really should thank him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll be grateful next time I’m held hostage in London.”

“We’re protecting you.”

She’s a broken record at that point. Spencer is so sick of being protected all of the time. **A** is the one thing that she really is afraid of but none of them know enough to know anything about that or what she actually needs protecting from. She might actually be safer in jail, which is really saying something. At least there the sound of her getting a text on her phone wouldn’t send her over the edge, she wouldn’t even have a phone to do that.

 **A** would likely find some way to torture her.

* * *

As she stands in the middle of the train station with her bag over her shoulder and waiting for Wren she finds herself far more bitter than she was before. She woke up with her dreams focused on everything that happened in a way that only makes her angrier for not being let in on anything. What’s new? In reality, her anger should be towards her parents and probably Melissa, but she’s not ready to inform them she knows. She wants to look her parents in the eye and ask them without them being able to hang up on her. If she lets Melissa in on it she’ll simply warn her parents.

So Wren gets the bulk of it.

So much so she’s checked her watch a million times over and is impatiently tapping her foot as she waits for him. They need to leave soon otherwise they’ll have to take the next train. Not that it’s a big deal but the sooner she gets to St. Andrews the sooner she can sleep and have her interview the next day. That’s the plan.

With Wren along for the whole ride.

“I’m sorry.” Wren apologizes for the fifth hundredth time as he stops next to her. “I forgot my wallet. I had to go back.”

“You could have called if you weren’t fawning over my look alike.”

“Enough, Spencer.” His tone is as serious as she’s ever heard it.

“Finally fall for the right sister?” It’s childish, that much she’ll admit. He doesn’t quite look at her and Alex the same way, but she’s found out since being in London that there is so much to him she doesn’t know. Fair enough in most respects since she only knew him a week at most when he was still Melissa’s fiance, but then as the months ticked on she thought the times she got to see him things would be different. Naive, in most respects.

“I wouldn’t know. She’s being a bitch right now.”

At first Spencer checks that she’s actually speaking to Wren still. “Finally broke the _posh_ Londoner.” She mocks him in an accent, turning to him with something of a smirk. “You know you’re a walking cliche. London. Oxford. Posh. Dressed like you’re going to work. Bad choice of tie.”

“Says Spencer Hastings.”

“I thought you liked that.” Her smirk turns into something of a smile. “Melissa is as uptight as they get. Mixed match colors in her closet doesn’t change much.”

“London has freed her up a bit.”

That has to be nice, is all she can think. She can admit Melissa does seem like she has less problems than Spencer does. Of course, Melissa isn’t being stalked by **A** and she’s free of her secret. It really must do someone well. They board the train and she takes a seat next to Wren, holding her phone in her lap.

It’s been too quiet since she found her way to London. She half expects a call from Caleb that everyone has been arrested and she’s the one next on the list. Caleb because she’s entirely certain all of Rosewood will burn down before Toby ends up calling her. It doesn’t matter much anyway. Jail is jail.

“You can’t be mad at me.” Spencer breaks the silence after an hour. He doesn’t reply and she looks over at him. “You hid my sister for four months and I’m only five months out of rehab. Radley and rehab. What a catch. I doubt Alex is crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

She wants to believe him but she doesn’t. It’s hard to believe him when she knows she lost a part of herself when she was in Radley. There’s a part of her that is never coming out. Even her own mother is concerned about what that will look like on her resume. Her father wants to shut it down. It’s something that haunts her. She’s not like Melissa or everyone else. Even through all the trauma her friends went through they never fell so hard. She _is_ crazy. Take a seat right next to Mona, if she was still alive at least. “I’m sure that’s what my file says. Spencer Hastings: Not crazy, not sure why she’s here.”

“My father spent most of his life in one of those places.” Wren admits quietly, looking out the window over looking at her. “In a perfect world those places don’t exist and we’re all able to function swimmingly. Only the world isn’t perfect, we’re not perfect. I am not, nor are you. Being in Radley and struggling with pills does not make you crazy, Spencer.” He turns to her. “Sometimes some people need a little more help than others.”

“I’m sorry.” She’s genuine as she looks over at him. It’s something she didn’t know and something she feels for. There’s no denying she has issues and sometimes she can see too much into Mona’s mindset. It doesn’t change what she did or how mean Spencer can be about it, but she gets it. “About your dad, about my attitude, about a lot. I feel so... _lost_ lately.” Alex only seems to confuse her further but she’s just a mess that is hard to put together. She’s falling apart over and over.

“I should have told you.” Wren pauses, swallowing. “I have to tell you something else. Veronica is not your mum...your birth mum, at least.”

“ _What_?”

“Mary Drake is.”

Spencer doesn’t have much energy to be mad anymore so she just sinks further into her seat and looks away from him. Mary Drake. A name she’s never heard in her life and means little to her. She just sighs. “Would you have ever told me if I didn’t come to London?”

The silence tells her everything.

“How do you see me?” She demands, turning back to him with the infamous Hastings glare. “Am I just too fragile to be told things? Or are you really into Alex that whatever this is is just me being played. You’re not even telling Melissa, which she probably already knows. It’s _Melissa_. Do you have any more secrets? We’re stuck on this train just spit it out.”

“I was trying to protect you. Just like Melissa is.”

“From what? A _sibling_? News flash Wren I’ve been dealing with the sister from Hell longer than you’ve known either of us.”

“It’s more complicated than you know.”

Spencer closes her eyes and decides she’s just _done_ talking about it. She cares but it’s just so much is piling on top of her that it’s inching towards becoming too much. So much that it seems unfair. It _is_ unfair. Her sister, her mother, her not mother. She doesn’t know. She wonders if her father is even her father but doesn’t ask. It’s a question she’s not ready to know the answer to. There’s **A** and knowing Mona is dead. Alison and Hanna are in prison and everything is just...she swears she’s about to have a panic attack and does her best to just breathe. She needs to just... _breathe_.

When trying to breathe turns into her falling asleep she’s not sure. Her eyes open a few minutes before the train stops with her head on Wren’s shoulder while he reads through a few patient files. She shouldn’t read along the parts she can see but she does anyway, unable to help herself.

“At least that person has real problems.”

“You’re awake.” Wren says, turning his head just enough so he can glance at her, closing the file in the process.

“Yeah,” she sits up, “how long I have been out?”

“A while.”

“You should have woken me up.”

“You needed to sleep.”

“You don’t know what I need.”

Wren doesn’t reply and only puts the files back in his bag. Spencer crosses her arms and is pretty sure she has that pouty look on her face that reminds her of the time she was drunk in his place after one of the many times she needs to escape her family. A common theme. That feels like a lifetime ago, even if she can remember the night a little too well for her own good.

* * *

Scotland is pretty from what little she sees of it. A nice place to just get away from everything and anything. If her interview goes well but that’s not really much on her mind as she stares looking out at the North Sea. She’s freezing as she stands on the shore with Wren next to her, but she doesn’t care as the smell of the sea washes over her, her hair blowing behind her.

It’s not Rosewood, that is for certain.

Things shift between her and Wren the longer they spend together. She doesn’t quite understand it but maybe that is for the better...that she doesn’t understand what is going on anymore. He’s kept so many secrets and is adamant about protecting her as much as Melissa is. Her mother _is_ the one who called him. It’s as if everyone is in on something that she doesn’t understand.

“My life is a mess.” She whispers after a while as she ends up sitting, not caring that she’s going to end up with sand everywhere.

Wren seats right next to her, glancing over at her only for a moment before he looks out at the sea. “You’re eighteen, Spencer. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“What were you doing at eighteen?”

“Getting into Oxford.” He shrugs. “Getting dumped by an old girlfriend. Figuring out...life. I’ll admit your life is far more high pressure than mine simply because of your parents.”

“Who are just trying to protect me.” She turns to him, focusing in on his face in the moonlight. “I used to think Melissa wanted me dead. I wouldn’t put it past her. I’ve done a lot of... _things_ to mess it up.”

“She cares about you.”

“Toby won’t even speak to me. Hasn’t even called me back. Alison and Hanna are in jail. Jason hates me. I have a twin sister. I don’t even know anything about my parents. Somehow this manages to connect with Cece Drake of all people.” She struggles to understand any of it. “Cece Drake. Mary Drake.” She doesn’t have the capacity to think about it. “And I haven’t even prepped for my interview with St. Andrews. This is going to go as bad as Oxford. Then I’m going to be going to some no name school where everyone is stupid.”

Wren smiles but shakes his head. “You’re going to do fine.”

“You’re the only reason I’m even here. Melissa told me to be grateful.”

“They wouldn’t even agree to see you if you weren’t up to their standards. I just nudged it along.”

“Yeah.” Spencer doesn’t believe him but let’s it go. “We should go. I’m cold and tired.” She dusts herself off from the sand and waits for Wren to stand up, wrapping her arms around herself as she walks. Once inside they walk down the hall. “Do you like her? Alex.”

“She’s not like you or Melissa, that’s for sure.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yes.”

Spencer nods. “Do you think she likes me?”

“I don’t think she knows you well enough. You’re kind of prickly.”

“You liked me.” Spencer points out. “Colin. People back home. Not _everyone_.” She’s definitely not versed for that. “I would be the girl whose twin hates her.”

“When did you start worrying about what people think of you?”

“My parents would be so proud right now. Always about image.”

“Image isn’t everything.”

“It’s not?” Spencer questions. “My image is what will get me into Oxford.”

“You’re Spencer Hastings no matter what.”

She doesn’t think when she kisses him. She just does. She pulls him closer and doesn’t think. She’s tired of thinking. He kisses her back and it reminds her of all the other times when she leaned on him when things were falling apart. She does that. It’s too often and it’s unfair. To both of them and everything she is running from, but he’s there. He’s lying and secretive, she isn’t entirely sure she trusts him, but he’s there knowing her in ways other people don’t.

She fumbles with the door until it’s open and she’s pulling him through it. An alarm goes off in her head that it’s all such a bad idea. She’s making a stupid decision but she doesn’t care. Something of a new revelation.

“Spencer, we should...” He breathes the words out while he looks at her, licking his lips.

She looks up at him. “Right. Yeah. I’m sorry.” She backs way, turning and running her hand through her hair. She’s the queen of making ba decisions and they seem to just keep happening. Melissa wouldn’t forgive her anyway. Neither would her parents. She would need to go to school in timbuktu just to get away from all of them, if she even went to school at all. In a weird way it sounds nice. Spencer sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at him. “We can just... _forget_ this one. Maybe all the others.”

“I remember when I suggested that and you were adamant we don’t.” Wren sits next to her.

“I can’t read you.” She admits softly as she plays with her fingers in her lap. “I don’t know if you’re into me or not, which is the least of all my concerns right now. You’re lying but then you’re here and I just can’t read you. Okay, no forget I said that. I sound so stupid.”

Wren lays back down on the bed and tugs her with him, pulling her so she’s a lot closer than she should be. “When I met you I remember thinking I’d fallen for the wrong sister. I still think that.” He brushes her hair from her face. “I keep going about it the wrong way. I don’t think in instills much good faith if I sleep with you while with Melissa.”

“At least I’m eighteen now.” She smiles, a real smile. “That’s a bad joke.”

“You’re beautiful.” The complement is soft as his accent thickens, if even possible. “Always have been. Witty. Funny. Well read. _Not crazy ._  Real. Normal. Worth every thing that’s happened since I met you.”

“What if this is it?” She trails her finger along his jaw. “Our one moment. Then it’s gone.”

“Fate keeps bring us together.”

Spencer smiles, dropping her hand. “Fate is pretty fucked up.”

Wren laughs, a true laugh. “Yeah, it bloody is.”

“Tell me it’ll be okay.”

“It’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t even know what but she appreciates that he says it anyway. “Thank you, Wren. For everything. I know that’s ridiculous given I keep yelling at you but…

“I deserve it.”

The air shifts as they just stare at one another. It reminds her when they were in her room, before Melissa actually caught them. The way he looks at her sets her whole body on fire and she hates the way she just wants him. It’s always been extraordinarily difficult to stop things. She never wants to but one of them comes to their senses. It was Wren this time, but then suddenly, he’s kissing her again. Kissing her in the way that no one else ever has and she doesn’t want anyone else to.

“Are you?”

“Our one moment.” Wren murmurs right against her lip before cupping her cheek and kissing her again.

It all starts out slow, in a way that Spencer maybe thinks she can put a stop to this before it gets somewhere where she can’t stop it. Can’t or won’t, a fine line she’s not well versed in given all the trouble she almost always gets herself into. Wren’s always been something unexplored for her and given the chance to explore him she’s going to take it. Nothing about him is safe and she’s entirely certain her attraction is rooted in just that...the fact that he’s anything but safe. He’s holding things back from her, that much she can tell just the way he looks at her with those eyes that make her feel like she’s the only woman on Earth he’s ever looked at.

She’s not. Not when he was once engaged to her sister and is now back with that very sister. They live together and she’s not stupid as to what goes on in a relationship. She and Toby have their own time together.

It doesn’t matter when she’s loosening his tie as quickly as she can, making an attempt at the buttons of his shirt next, while her own shirt ends up on the floor. She feels more exposed than she’s ever been with him before. She is, obviously, since she’s never been entirely topless before him. He’s seen her in a mess of other ways, however, so many ways that being exposed in that way is just so different.

His skin is soft and smooth, running her palms along his chest. She’s never had this with him. Sober, in her right mind. She’s not going to end up in some Scottish mental hospital or in rehab. She’s sober and knows everything is going to go up in flames. She’s not entirely certain of the truth anymore but she’s just willing to jump and hope **A** isn’t stalking her with some weird camera in there to record her every move.

She’s not hurried even though she should be. She’s calm and steady. She has her feet firmly planted on the ground even though that’s not exactly the case. His lips feel good against hers and she hates that it makes her body burn with something even Colin couldn't give her. That was a fire of desperation to feel wanted, but with Wren it’s a feeling of him catching her when she’s falling. She’s making things better and she’s happy, good, content. There are all nothing but words.

She only stops to catch her breath and as her eyes are locked on his she moves to undo his belt buckle. She considers that the line of no return. He doesn’t stop her and only runs his own hands along her chest. She moans, softly, just enough, trying so hard to keep some composure so she doesn’t feel her young eighteen years to his...twenty something. She’s not entirely sure how old he is but probably as old as Jason or Melissa.

It’s nothing worth dwelling as she frees his from the confines of his pants and is able to see him in a way she’s only envisioned in her head...a few times. She’s always had something of a wandering mind, something she assumes is typical for a teenager, but there’s something more to it with Wren.

Her hand wraps around him as he makes a work of her own jeans, managing to slide them and her panties off of her body, leaving her truly exposed like before. She doesn’t mind it though. Not really. There’s a moment where she feels herself blush since it’s Wren, someone she’s always had misses with, never any hits. Then he’s looking at her and letting out a soft moan as she works her hand along him. He’s definitely interested.

“Did you think about this, before?” Spencer asks as she breaks the silence hanging between them. She never thought it would be a reality and needs to know if it’s the same for him.

He finds himself closer to her, her hands exploring her, landing between her thighs. “Yes, I don’t know what that makes me.”

“A guy…”

“I suppose so.”

A guy that makes her feel good so she doesn’t really care about the little technicalities between them. In a perfect world she’s a little older or he’s a little younger. There’s definitely no Melissa involved. The rest is just semantics that doesn’t really matter to her one way or the other. Especially when she’s being touched by him and is having a hard time keeping her mind in one piece.

It gets worse once he’s inside of her and making her feel things that she doesn’t know what to do with. She likes the closeness and likes that she’s with Wren. She can’t help the way her mind wanders into a mess of things she can’t really understand as well as would like. Oxford. St. Andrews. Melissa. Toby. But then Wren kisses along her neck and she’s only thinking about him. Nothing else. Just the two of them together in a way she wanted it to be since she met him.

It’s worth the wait. The way he holds onto her, the way her moans fill the room, and the way there’s nothing between them. Physically and mentally everything is just pure and raw. There and together. She doesn’t love him but thinks that is maybe a good thing. She loved Toby before she ever slept with him. Hadn’t been with anyone else. It’s different. Good different, bad different. She doesn’t know. It’s just _different_.

His hand grips her thigh and draws her closer to him. She’s smiling against his lips, finding a raw passion taking over as she bites down into lower lip. “Wren please.” She begs, unable to help herself. She needs to feel more. It hits her that the mystery about him attracts her. In the same way it did with Ian. In the way it did with Toby. Her just not managing to know him at all and the trust being thin. But he cares about her and she cares about him. Always has. Always will. Wonders what that makes her to put him above her sister. She is sleeping with her sister’s boyfriend after all. Hadn’t managed that with Ian, something she’s grateful for now, but crossed the line with Wren.

It’s too good to worry her mind over it even though she’s usually worrying her mind over something. She’s trying not to think about all that is unsaid or the raw feeling of him inside of her that screams just how reckless this all is. He’s faster and pulsing within her in a way that is only making her feel like she needs to claw at him go get what she needs. It’s no longer a want, but a need.

He tugs at her hair at the base of her neck that only makes her yearn for more. So much more. She can’t help herself as she tries not to leave a mark, but feels some weird power struggle that she needs to.  She doesn’t. Not when she’s just totally and completely lost within him. The way he’s looking at her only sparks something inside of her that makes it harder to control herself. There is no control. It slips away so quickly and she’s repeating his name like she can’t help herself by steal whatever he’s willing to give. She is. Especially the way the orgasm hits hers and he follows right after her.

The reality of what they are doing doesn’t hit her just yet, not when she’s leaning forward and kissing him like she’s done what feels like a million times before. The frustration that filled her is gone and she realizes how good it is to feel sated, even if for a few minutes. Too good to pass up, too good to care, too good to do anything but lay her head on his chest and manage to catch her breath.

* * *

She wakes up suddenly, as if she’s jolted away by something. It’s nothing. Not with the way he just glances over at a sleeping Wren who looks so peaceful with the sheet barely covering him. There’s a realization that hits at what they did and she should feel worse than she does. Of course she knows anything she had with Toby is now effectively over and maybe that’s okay. Maybe she should just be alone for a while so they can figure out all of this **A** stuff. It’s better for them all if she has a clear mind.

The one thing she does hope is that she doesn’t need to stay in London too much longer. She really, really doesn’t want Melissa to find out about all of this. That she continued on her ways and...she can’t even finish the thought as lets out a soft sigh. Melissa will kill her and she wouldn’t even blame her.

Ian. Wren.

Though Ian actually tried to kill her so she doesn’t think that one should count. Wren is... _Wren_. He doesn’t make sense but he makes all the sense in the world.

“What time is it?” Wren asks as he rolls over.

“Four.”

“Sleep,” he whispers, tugging her to him, “I like to sleep.”

Spencer lets out a chuckle and lays with him, nodding off to the beating of his heart.

Her phone is the thing that manages to wake her up for the day an hour later.

 **[ anonymous; 4:07 AM ]** Naughty little liar. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. Play by my rules and Melissa won't find out -  **A**

She tightly closes her eyes and tries not to think about the thought that **A** knows exactly what she got up to in that room. She looks over at Wren and realizes he probably deserves to know something in case it happens. Only she’ll just play by the rules instead of ruining both of their lives. They both deserve more than to have this take down everything.

* * *

St. Andrews goes a hell of a lot better than Oxford does and she’s grateful. Her hopes are set on Oxford but she thinks St. Andrews would be nice. If nothing else she has her memory of Wren. All she does know is that she needs to get away from Rosewood and a whole different country is a nice thought. A fresh start. She’s all but desperate for one.

She thinks they should probably get out. Scotland isn’t a place where one should sit in their room, but there’s a horror of A watching her that she just finds herself back in the room laying with Wren. They only have an hour before they need to leave so they can actually make the train back to London. If they are too late she’s positive Melissa will get suspicious that Spencer was up to no good. She wouldn’t exactly be wrong. Wouldn’t be wrong at all. But it’s their little secret. Their _one_ moment. She’ll do anything to keep it that way.

“It went well?” Wren asks as he twirls with the curl of her hair, her legs tangled in a mess with his.

Spencer nods. “Yeah, no panic attack in sight.”

“Panic attack?”

“Colin helped me.”

“Ah, Colin.”

“Oh, stop that.” She smiles, running her fingers against his mouth, “he didn’t get to see me naked.”

“ _Almost_.”

Spencer rolls her eyes. “I need a favor.”

“Anything.” His response is immediate.

“Get my passport back. I need to go home.”

“I’m that good, huh?” He chuckles. “Relax, Spencer. I’m joking. I will see what I can do.”

“I have to break up with Toby.” She confesses, trailing her finger along his chest. “I’m not telling you so that you break up with Melissa. I just...cheating on him three times is probably a sign it’s over.”

“Three times?”

“Don’t judge me.” Even if she is judging herself. “Like you’ve never cheated on Melissa.”

“Only ever with you.” Which doesn’t sound better. “Do you want me to break up with Melissa?”

“I’m going back to Rosewood. I haven’t even finished high school. Is that why you like me?”

“I can positively say that you being in high school is hardly what makes me like you.”

“No,” though she’s glad to know that, “that it means nothing. That you can’t have me.”

“This means nothing?”

“You know what I mean.” She chastises, feeling as if she should create distance between them, but not bothering to. “It’s only when you can’t have me and when you can you’re nowhere to be found.”

“I don’t want to disrupt your life. There is something deeper going on than this, _us_ , Alex. I can see it but I won’t force you to speak about it. The night you were drunk was the only reason nothing happened between us, not because you were suddenly available and I was disinterested. It’s never been that.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” She nods, it’s possibly one of the only things she actually believes. She kisses him only to be interrupted by her phone ringing. There’s half a second where she’s convinced it’s **A** only to realize it’s a call, not a text.

“It’s Melissa.” She tells Wren before answering it. “Hi, Melissa.”

“How’d it go?”

“Good. It went good.”

“Mom wants you to know that Alison didn’t take the plea deal.”

That’s not anything she’s expecting Melissa to say, barely even knows how to process it. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She didn't want to ruin your interview.”

“Can I go home now?”

Melissa is quiet before answering. “Not exactly.”

“Why not?” Her tone is high and demanding, a true Hastings. “Melissa just spit it out.”

“Mom got word that you, Aria, and Emily are being investigated for being an compliance with Alison.”

“That’s insane. I didn’t do anything.”

“You remember what happened with Alison.”

“Yeah.” It’s not like she could ever forget, “and I didn’t commit that murder either. She’s _alive_ and you never even believed me because of Ian.”

“Spencer, calm down.”

“No, I’m not being accused of murders I’m not committing. You and mom are always doing this. Why don’t you just say it, Melissa? You guys think I’m a murmurer. It would save us a lot of trouble.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s like that.” Spencer shook her head, not even managing to feel comforted by the way Wren rubs her thigh, “If mom wants to talk she can talk to me herself.”

“Spencer, wait.”

Spencer wastes no time in hanging up on Melissa. If she calls back she’ll just ignore her and none of that bothers her as she looks over at Wren. It’s not necessarily the first argument he’s been exposed to, but the first one where she falls down into a Spencer that only manages to exist with Melissa.

“That did not seem like it went well.”

“Ian tried to fling me from the belltower and I don’t think she’s ever forgiven for his death after that.” She whispers quietly, barely looking over at Wren. “Her and my mom probably have some whole idea of Alison and I murdering Mona. After all, she sent me here because she was afraid I’d be named as accomplice. That doesn’t put much faith in me.”

“They know who you are.”

“They don’t.”

“Well,” he sits up, closing any distance between them, “I do. I don’t think you killed her.” He kisses her even though they both know he shouldn’t, especially not when talking about his girlfriend and her sister, “I don’t think you killed anyone.”

Spencer wonders what he means by that but doesn’t ask. Sometimes she wonders what Melissa tells him about her. Another conversation for another time. When she’s not...lost in so many messes he’s the only one thing keeping her above water, when he’s drowning her just like everyone else. “We need to go back.” she whispers, kissing him one last time. “And you should stay with Melissa.”

“If that’s what you want.”

She doesn’t know that is but it’s what seems right. “It’s what I want.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things can’t be different. They are what they are and that’s all there is to it.

The flat is as still as ever by the time Wren and Spencer move through the front door. It’s only half past ten but Melissa chatted his ear off about having a morning meeting she couldn’t miss under any circumstances when she called him on the train. Colin normally slips off to bed early to be fully functioning for the kids he instructs. With them both he’s thankful for the absence, fearing the tension coming off of both him and Spencer is noticeable to just about anyone. Questions he’s not much in the mood to answer.

His bag drops by the door and he shrugs his coat off, watching Spencer out of the corner of his eye. He desperately tries his best to not think of the way she looked at him when they were nothing but a mess of tangled limbs in an awful hotel bed. He fails when the smile comes across his lips, allowing his gaze to linger for a moment too long, only managing to fall when she catches him. Even then it doesn’t fall that much. Not when it’s hard to deny just how much time he enjoys spending with her, has since they first met.

He’s not entirely certain what she is thinking and is hesitant to ask. No part of him is _proud_ for what they did. Self control never seems to exist when she’s around. Only being around her makes him feeling something he’s been craving to get back to when he met her in her parent’s backyard with that look on her face telling him just how much animosity existed between her and her elder sister. They are a long way from Rosewood and nothing is as simple as it seemed back then.

It’s ironic in a mess of ways. Back in Rosewood he had a failed engagement but as he walks to the fridge so much more weighs upon his shoulders he doesn’t know where to start. In truth, he didn’t think Spencer would be a factor in his life again. Foolish given his stance with Melissa, but they live in London for a reason. He doesn’t think Melissa would bother with him if they were still living in the States. Not when she can keep a whole ocean between he and Spencer. His affection for the younger Hastings’ runs deep. It is bloody apparent to anyone who looks at him and he knows it.

He also knows just what kind of man that makes him.

“Are you hungry?” Wren asks casually as his eyes scour the fridge, doing his best to look anywhere but her.

Spencer doesn’t answer immediately, leaving a silence until Wren looks back at her. “I should just...go to bed.”

“You didn’t eat on the train.”

“I’m not…” she trails off before moving to look through the fridge, grabbing the jar of pickles and moving to the counter.

He finds it odd but doesn’t mention it, grabbing a yogurt as he searches for a spoon. The air is thick with tension between them. They should talk before Melissa takes note the following day. She picks up everything and he’s in no mood for a fight with her. Of course, if they are to have the conversation _anywhere_ a few feet from where Melissa seems a poor idea. Full of those as of late. As if being in Rosewood followed him to London, making connections he should not be making.

Not all of which Spencer knows about, not in their true detail. He’s hesitant to tell her even if he knows he should. She deserves to know complete truths over the fragments he delivers instead. Always deserves more than he’s ever been able to offer her. Even one stolen night while he continues his relationship with her sister is something that feels him with a shame and guilt, something that screams at him on the inside, that she deserves something, _someone_ more. He’s reading too much into it. It’s not as if he doesn’t know what one night means or that when she goes back to Rosewood she’ll likely patch her life back up with Toby.

Just the mere thought of his name causes Wren to grip the spoon harder. It’s ridiculous how he feels about the poor bloke but it’s existed for so long he doesn’t know how to do without it. Spencer may say she will break things off with Toby but he knows better. He knows she manages to find her peace with him and he exists as something of a detour when she needs something different. All of which he has no right to allow the bitter, sad feeling to flood him, or to think of how things could be different.

They can’t be different. They are what they are and that’s all there is to it.

He turns around and finds himself seated with her at the table. The yogurt is not something he desires nor is something he particularly pays attention to as he consumes it in order to fill the silence. She’s staring at him in a way he thinks the table could be used for ulterior purposes. He’s a risk taker but not that much of a risk taker, it being nothing but a thought fading away.

“Thanks for coming with me. It was... _nice_.”

“It was.” He agrees, setting the containing down on the table. “Decided if Britain is better than the States yet?”

“Well, Britain has Melissa but the States has... _everyone else_ so…” she shrugs and eats a pickle. “I think it’s a toss up. Maybe I should just move to Australia. I mean, the odds are higher that a venomous snake gets me in my sleep, but far away from the crazy.”

“I do not believe running away is your answer.”

“Isn’t that what Melissa did?” Spencer shrugs, not taking her gaze from him. “What time does Melissa leave?”

“She’ll be gone by seven.”

“And you?”

“My shift does not start until noon.”

Spencer nods but doesn’t say anything else. Instead she puts the jar back in the fridge before grabbing her bag next to his and disappearing around the corner. When he hears the door close he runs his hands over his face, letting out a deep sigh. He knows he cannot sit there forever in the kitchen in the dark. Definitely not when his mind is just a war of thoughts with multiple Hastings. The last thing that sitting there is going to do is solve any of his problems, problems that he constantly brings upon himself.

Forcing himself to finish the yogurt he slips off to the bedroom. His eyes catch the slight of a sleeping Melissa as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. She doesn’t, he supposes, not when everything is unknown to her. He desires to keep it that way when everything else managed to cause him to hurt her. It’s never his intention. Things just happen. It’s a poor excuse and one that doesn’t make him feel better about his actions. What she doesn’t know cannot hurt her. It’s the only justification he can manage to come up with.

He’s not in love with Melissa just as he suspects she’s not in love with him. They care about each other. It’s familiar in a way that only the other can give and it allows them both to have something when everything else gets ripped away in droves. It doesn’t mean that if she ever finds out he slept with Spencer she won’t hate him for it. Maybe she’ll be able to forgive Spencer for it. They _are_ sisters, after all. There’s a certain amount of things siblings can get over.

He thinks he should shower before getting into bed next to Melissa. He can feel Spencer all over him. It’s not something he wants to rid himself of, but Melissa has a suspicious way about her. Something he doesn’t blame her for, just something he doesn’t wish to encounter before he’s able to rest and collect himself.

The water from the shower is hot as he allows it to cascade down him. Soon it feels like all traces of Spencer are gone, a thought that doesn’t sit well with him. It’s irrational, he knows that. Entirely irrational in a way that ticks at the inner psychiatric part of him, to delve deeper into things that are never as simple as what exists on the surface. Regardless of how irrational or rational the thoughts moving through his mind are he knows he’s a damn bloody mess. Nothing can be undone.

Some of those very things that cannot be undone will only hurt Spencer in ways he doesn’t wish to hurt her. It seems that is something of a common theme with him and those with the Hastings last name. He made his connections with Charlotte and Alex at the most inopportune times to be there with such a hesitation that he only realizes where he’s standing when the water shifts to cold.

Stepping out of the shower her grabs the towel and dries himself off. His mind shifts to Spencer near constantly, as if he simply cannot stop thinking about her. He can’t. Whenever he’s near her she just consumes him. Something about her. He hasn’t quite understood it. Not when he first kissed her and now as he stands there in the bathroom.

 _One moment_ , wasn’t that one Spencer had said to him? If only she knew just how true those words for them. The secrets with Alex were only something of the beginning. He aimed to protect through as much as he could but things were twisting further and further away from him. “Damn it.” He murmurs to himself running his hand through his hair.

By the time he makes it to the bed Melissa wakes glancing over at him only partially awake. “How’d it go?”

“You should ask Spencer. It’s her interview.” He comments as he lays down next to her, laying on his side so he can look at her. “She was quiet almost the entire ride back.”

“I’m tired of lying to her.”

“I know.” More than she understands. “You should let her go home, Melissa.”

“They’ll arrest her. You don’t know what that town is like. They decide you’re guilty before you have a chance to prove you're innocent. If I know anything is where Alison brings her trouble it’s Spencer that goes down first. Jason chooses to protect Alison, I have to protect Spencer. Everything I have done is to protect Spencer.”

“You can’t protect her here, you know that. They’ll arrest her anyway. Let her do it on her own terms.”

“I thought we agreed.”

“You agreed for the both of us.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “Let’s just see how the trial goes.”

Wren gets comfortable in the bed without replying to Melissa. He knows if he pushes her too far she’ll only lock up completely and Spencer will end up stuck in London until the end of time. It’s not that wishes for her to leave and go back to Rosewood. He knows just how dangerous the charges against Alison are and how dangerous they will be against Spencer. He doesn’t find it odd that a sister and mother would do anything in their power to protect Spencer. He does know that running was not going to solve anything, not unless she finds herself missing like Alison did.

“We’ll see how the trail goes.” The words only come when he hears the way Melissa’s breathing shifts telling him she’s asleep.

* * *

By the time he wakes Melissa is long gone, her side of the bed cold, leaving Wren all tangled up in the sheets. It’s somehow earlier and later than he thinks when he does manage to check the time on his phone, a soft groan slipping from him as he manages to make it out of bed, and find a shirt. He chooses not to allow his mind to wander as he makes it out to the living room, eyes catching Spencer immediately.

“I’m going for a run.” She tells him as she stands from the couch, pulling up her hair in a tie.

“Want some company?” The question comes without him even really thinking about it.

Spencer raises her eyebrow at him near instantly. “Do you even run, _Oxford_?”

 _No_ , is the correct answer. “I can run.” Physically, he can run. Whether or not he can keep up is something else entirely. It can’t be that hard, can it? Either way he’s about to find out.

“Okay, yeah. But if I leave you in the dust not my problem.”

Wren rolls his eyes even if she’s right, she will most definitely leave him in the dust. Not that he expects any less. She’s competitive, to put it lightly. Very, _very_ lightly. He slips off to the bedroom only to find himself dreadfully unprepared to run with her or anywhere. His trainers are all the way in the back of the closet right next to heels Melissa swears up and down she needs to keep even though he’s never seen her wear them in the years he’s known her. By the time he actually makes it back to the living room, where Spencer is firmly seated on the couch captivated by her phone, he knows how bad of an idea it is. The snort that comes from her doesn’t help.

“You look,” she begins, pausing, eyeing him carefully, “so out of place.”

Wren feels as out of place as he looks. His days of rowing at Oxford are long behind him. “I heard that.”

She feigns innocence. “What?”

“Let’s go, Spencer.”

Clouds overcast the city as they make it downstairs. Not that it stops how enthusiastic Spencer is. A sight he’s missed since she’s been quite displeased with him since stumbling upon him and Alex. It does not take long before his lungs burn in a not so pleasant way and he realizes a desire to spend time with Spencer was probably best satisfied if they do something that doesn’t cause his mind to turn to dramatic thoughts. He’s a doctor and should likely be in better shape than he actually is.

His struggle to keep up with her is obvious as his breathing becomes more labored just by trying. He also takes note of the way she’s slowing down periodically so he doesn’t fall far behind. She’s winning, even if they aren’t racing. Everything's a competition and his own drive might have began to rival hers if he didn’t feel as if he was going to drop at any moment.

It takes a near mile before he stops, unable to keep going. He simply doesn’t care and leans against a wall, so close to doubling over, and expelling the contents of his stomach. The only saving grace is that it’s not bloody hot outside, otherwise he’s positive he’d be lying on the ground in a dramatic fashion that doesn’t even suit him.

“You can’t keep up.” There’s a gloat in her voice as she stands in front of him, a smile to match her tone.

He’s panting heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t run.”

“You’re a _doctor_.”

“I don’t know if you know what doctors do but there is hardly a physical.”

“And the smoking?” She can’t help but point out. “How does Melissa put up with you?”

“If you see Melissa out here running…”

“ _Point_.”

“Come on. We’re finishing.”

“No.” Wren groans as he manages to stand up straight. “We are not running anywhere.”

“Yes.”

With one look from Spencer that he swears is how she has to get her way with anyone they run down the block again. His lungs burn less than before but he can feel himself psyching out just because he knows the misery. He slows down to something of a job and swear he looks a total amatuer compared to Spencer who is running as if there’s some marathon happening.

His athletic days of secondary school and Oxford were long gone and so was his ability to keep up with eighteen year old Spencer. She ends up running quite ahead of him, to which he hardly minds. It’s a view worth seeing even as there’s guilt that creeps in...for both her age and everything else. He thinks his lungs burning is better than his mind roaming and manages to catch up to Spencer where she’s standing.

“Were you waiting for me?” He pretends to not be as out of breath as he is.

“No.” The lie is clear as she smiles. “Don’t you feel better?”

“No, I feel like I need to shower before work and I’m tired.”

“That means you should run more so you don’t end up with a beer gut.”

“Not your type?” He doesn’t help the way he stands a little closer to her then.

She doesn’t move back from him but there’s a certain stiffness that finds her. “Melissa can’t find out.”

“That we went on a run?”

“She’ll never forgive me or you.”

“It’s always been you, Spencer.” Wren does his best to not reach out and touch her. He wants to. He wants so bad that he ends up crossing his arms simply so he doesn’t. The rain starts to fall on them then, to which he doesn’t move. Just watches her with that expression he knows he has around her, unable to keep the soft smile from across his lips. She likely thinks his line is pure rubbish. “I have made a lot of mistakes but this, _you_ , you’ve never been a mistake.”

“I’ll remember that in prison.”

“Spencer,” he looks down briefly to avoid touching her. His mouth opens but he struggles to find any of the words he’s looking for. What is there to say when he shouldn’t be saying anything at all? There is a whole host of things he should tell her. He _needs_ to, he knows that. He needs to give her a whole vision of what exactly happened and what is happening around her. He doesn’t, not when he’s standing there and just watching her. In all fairness, he doesn’t have any information on Mona or Alison. He doesn’t know much about what happened. If something exists that makes Spencer look guilty right next to Alison it’s not something he can intercept to keep her out of jail. It’s not as if he nor Melissa can help her, but still, something exists within him that makes him need to tell him what he _does_ know. Even if it doesn’t help and just makes her hate him.

“Spencer, I…” She goes wide eyed for a brief moment as she looks down at her phone. Her face evens and he pretends not to notice.

“I have to...call Jason.”

Wren doesn’t believe she’s telling the truth but he just nods, not planning on shoving himself in where he doesn’t belong.

His own phone goes off when she walks a bit away from him to make a call he briefly thinks about attempting to listen in on. The rain isn’t heavy enough to impair it. But his own eyes widen when he looks down at his phone. Charlotte and him hold something of _tumultuous_ dynamic, to put it nicely. His first psychiatric rotation happened to be at Radley where he met Charlotte, for her to nearly completely manipulate him until he learned better. One of the supervising doctors had simply been amused by the whole deal saying something similar happened to him. He risked a lot for Charlotte or for her to make a complete mess of everything in the end. To him, she was Charlotte, but to everyone she was Cece. Spencer deserved to know but she knew Cece and it all seemed so…

 **[ Charlotte; 9:04, AM]** Tell on me, I tell on you.

The message doesn’t bother to hide who it’s coming from. _Charlotte_. It causes something of an inner war with himself. If he tells Spencer about Charlotte and what she did then he’s entirely certain that the lovely little video on his phone will go to Melissa and her parents. He knows how she operates and it’s maximum impact. He desperately tries not to think about being seen, about what was theirs now isn’t, how that invasion is something next level when it’s just not the two of them kissing. It’s them on the bed, it’s them without clothes, stolen in moments that should be for them only, not for the psychotic pleasure of another.

 **[ Wren; 9:05, AM ]:** Leave her out of this. I mean it.

 **[ Charlotte; 9:06 AM ]:** Sure you’re with the right Hastings’? I can hit send at any time. I’m sure daddy Hastings would love to see what you do with his little girl when nobody's watching.

 **[ Wren; 9:07 AM ]:** What do you want?

 **[ Charlotte; 9:10 AM ]:** Keep your mouth shut. Wouldn’t want to lose it. Deliver the package I’m sending to your apartment to Alex. No questions asked.

 **[ Wren; 9:11 AM ]:** Stop spying on me.

“Ready?” Spencer comes back over to him to ask just when he sent the last message.

Wren bites his tongue on all of the things that he wants to say but makes no mention of anything. He doesn’t trust Charlotte and while Spencer is acting odd it’s not enough for him to think she’s making a mess again. Alex assured him she just left to be with Archer. Mona’s death and Alison’s trial serve to satisfy it, along with Spencer’s obvious issues she’s had since he saw her in Radley. “Yeah, I’m not running back.”

Spencer rolls her eyes. “Fine, we’ll walk.”

He can tell by that look on her face she’s giving him a playful judgement and he finds it’s endearing almost. “Melissa should be back around four.”

“I’ll busy myself.”

“You going to avoid her forever?”

Spencer crosses her arm as she shoots him something of a glare. “Yes. I’ve been doing it most of my life. Just because I’m staying with her doesn’t mean anything.”

“She cares about you.”

“Please, please do _not_ defend her right now.”

He knows he touched a nerve and can feel the way he’s caught between both Spencer and Melissa. It’s not his favorite place to be. Somehow the messes get messier. His care for Spencer mixed with a loyalty to Melissa. They both manage to mess with his head in ways that are a lot harder to explain than he desires. He’s a piece out of many that gets between them and there’s a sense that he needs to smooth the waters. Even before he met Spencer, Melissa didn’t speak of her in high regard. It struck him as odd but as time ticks by it seems normal. “I wasn’t.”

Spencer doesn’t reply and silence finds them as they walk down the street.

“What are you thinking?”

Spencer shrugs, avoiding for a few passing moments. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” He answers quickly and absolutely, no wavering in his voice, nothing defensive in his tone. He doesn’t regret anything with her no matter all the messes it brings him. Even with Charlotte’s knowledge on his mind, not trusting her in the slightest, does he not regret it. “Do you?”

“I should but I don’t know.”

When they make it back there’s a package sitting outside the door to which he picks up. He opens it in the kitchen and hopes there’s nothing in there to set Spencer off. Her phone rings though, giving him a moment to open it without making him seem like he’s being secretive. From her greeting he notes it’s Veronica and can see the way she tenses and her tone turns to something akin to how she was with Melissa the previous day when they were in the hotel room.

He tries not to listen as he dumps the contents of the package out on the table. It’s a whole pile of paperwork that traces back to the Carissimi group. Along with a file on Mary Drake and Peter Hastings, confirming that he _is_ Alex’s father, Spencer’s, too. That’s something, he thinks, that throughout this whole mess at least Spencer’s father is her biological one. It’s a complicated situation, he’s aware. He just knows that only losing one parent, in a figurative sense, will be easier. Or perhaps Spencer will be too upset by the lies to care.

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and he shoves the contents back into the envelope to be delivered to Alex later, not wanting to arouse questions.

“She’s insufferable.” Spencer lets out as she sits down on the couch. “She and Melissa are. I’m tired of the Hastings family image. All the time. If you say they are trying to protect me I’ll kill you.”

Wren smiles as he walks over and takes a seat next to her. “It’s hard to escape our families.”

“What about yours?”

“My mum lives up in Liverpool. I see her sometimes. I don’t have any siblings. My whole life has been devoted to finding answers my father couldn’t.” Wren looks down for a moment. “You could go on and live a life away from them. You could end up wandering around Europe looking for your calling. Only,” he turns to her, “we both know your desire to go to Oxford is not because of your parents or Melissa. It’s because _you_ want it.”

“Maybe that’s what old Spencer wants.”

“Is it?”

Spencer lets out a sigh. “I do want to go to Oxford or St. Andrews or Georgetown. Break from my parents.”

“And your friends.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” she confesses, “more than anyone who is only eighteen should. I’ll miss them though.”

Wren gives her a smile. He can only empathize with her aloud to Mna, to Alison going missing. Nothing concerning Charlotte, the fire, New York. He doesn’t like lying to her but thinks the truth might be too much. It’s entirely selfish. “You’re all alive now, minus Mona. But she wasn’t very much your friend, anyhow” when she smiles, so does he. “This will all blow over and you’ll have a chance to embrace life. You deserve that, Spencer. Melissa is wrong about a lot of things but a fresh start is not one of them.”

“I’ve been caught in Rosewood for so long that it seems so foreign.”

“Yeah, it’s like that.”

“Will you teach me to be British?”

“Something tells me you’ll be an expert before you even get back here.”

“ _No_.” She attempts to deny but smile. “Okay, _maybe_ , but that’s neither here nor there.”

“I have to get ready for work.” He does wish he can sit there for the rest of the day, just with her. Even if they’d probably only make more messes. “If Melissa gets on your nerves too much you know where the hospital is.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

* * *

His shift goes by painfully slow, as all had that week. He likes his job, otherwise he would not be doing it. One does not pour so much time into getting the qualification to become a doctor for it to not be something he truly likes. Only, he’s been caught listening to patients all day. The group therapy session left little to be desired as none of them spoke much, nor did the fighting with the patient who would often decides her medication is not worth taking. The human part of him doesn’t necessarily blame her. The things he’s seen from the people that move through those hospitals...even something as simple as medication disrupts them in ways that are helpful, yet undesired personally.

It’s sobering in a lot of ways, to go and see those people who are having issues they cannot fix themselves. It reminds him of seeing Spencer in Radley and how his heart sunk to his stomach for her. His attachment is always near and over the past few days he’s definitely caught himself eying her a little too closely. She deserves more credit than that. She’s pulled herself together and managed to sober her up. He can’t help himself regardless.  

Not when he sees how on edge she is and how things are a little more closer to danger than he’d like. He tries to not psychoanalyze her. She’d hate that but being witness to someone one cares about essentially breaking down as things around her fall apart brings a little more of the doctor side of him out.

There’s no clarity to dealing with the mentally ill. He’s noticed that with his father. He’s noticed that with Mona. He sees it in Charlotte when he tries not to be her doctor and instead be her...he doesn’t know. Friends is something of a loose term that hardly applies when she’s constantly using him to her own advantage and he’s doing his best to pull away so that his life can remain normal. None of this is what he ever meant to get himself involved in. Only he is. He’s involved right alongside everyone else for reasons that seem so foolish when he thinks them out.

He signs one last patient file before grabbing this things and making his way out of the hospital. It’s well into the night but his phone is silent. Even Melissa hadn’t bothered to text him, which is about right. Things are stable with her in a way that is so predictable he knows when Spencer leaves any form of excitement leaves. He likes Melissa, cares for her, loves her in a way, but they aren’t going to marry. She will not have his children. They’ll just be for now, however that is. Sometimes he looks at her and thinks she’s still in pain over Ian, over her child. He’s an odd sort of comfort, someone who doesn’t really deserve anything like a second chance, nor someone who explicitly desires it. As time goes by he’s aware of just how unsavory of a person he actually is. Not deserving of anyone in the situation as it moves. Charlotte, perhaps. He cannot help but laugh at that. Charlotte would use him for her own gain before anything else.

He slips into the still flat and off to the bedroom where Melissa is sound asleep. Within minutes he’s next to her and wondering far too many things. Wren almost wakes her to have a conversation he promises Spencer he won’t or to ask questions he shouldn’t. He doesn’t, in the end.

He just lies there hoping sleep will find him before the alarm does.

* * *

“I don’t think she likes me much.” Alex tells him as she leans back in her seat opposite of Wren.

Wren doesn’t have a position to argue with Alex. Spencer is impossible to read sometimes but there are other times the way she stands, the way she speaks, it makes the picture crystal clear. “Spencer doesn’t know how she feels about you either.”

“With Charlotte it was just so instant.” Alex’s eyes glance down to the drink in front of her, running her finger around the rim of the glass. “Like I found who I was missing my whole life but Spencer is lost in her own bloody mind half the time. Like she’s not even seeing me. If she doesn’t want to see me I wish she just said it.”

“I told you we should have just told her.”

“Maybe what Charlotte said is true. She’s just as wicked as the rest of the Hastings.”

“Give her a shot.”

“We’re not all pussy whipped like you.”

Wren ignores her statement and slides her the envelope full of contents he promised he’d give. “Charlotte wants you to have this.”

“What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

Alex gives him a suspicious kind of look as she peeks into the envelope and reading through all of the papers. “I want to meet him. Peter Hastings.”

“No, you don’t.”

Alex sighs, “Wren, come on. I do. He’s my father. I have one. I’ve never had one.”

There’s no way to tell her what he thinks of Peter Hastings without sounding like a pompous ass, or how he doesn’t think the meeting will go all that well. The details of how everything happened are a mystery to him but he cannot think that both he and Veronica are innocent parties in all of this. Especially when there’s a certain level of natural judgement they give Spencer. “You need to talk to Spencer. Your way is through her, not me.”

The answer doesn’t please her. Instead it only causes her to finish her drink. “She came ‘round last night.”

“How’d that go?”

“It went.” There’s a shrug, focusing more on the papers than anything. “So, who’s better? Hastings your own age or the eighteen year old you’ve been chasing since you met her?”

“Who pissed in your cheerios?”

“She’s going back to Rosewood. Leaving just like Charlotte did.”

“She’s a high school student with parents that…” He decides better than to finish that sentence. It doesn’t matter much if Alex knows his feelings on either of Hastings’ but Peter is her father. Perhaps she’ll bond. He thinks it’s unlikely but doesn’t wish to give the harsh reality that Melissa and Spencer were angels sent from the heavens above over Peter Hastings. It likely has to do with the desire to wring his bloody neck for kissing Spencer, in her bedroom of all places, while engaged to Melissa. It matters little. “Charlotte chose to leave of her own free will but Spencer is adjusting to the news while trying to finish school.”

“So…”

Wren rolls his eyes, unable to help him. “So, she wants to go to Oxford in the fall. You two can see each other. Develop one of those twin bonds people are always on about. She wants to escape family and you want to form one. It’ll take time.”

Alex pouts, barely accepting his answer. “Take me with you to the airport tomorrow.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Spencer said you were taking her since she’s not speaking to Melissa. Look, Melissa won’t be there. No one else will.” She leans across the table a little, looking at him with a wide, hopeful eye. “Come on. I’ll owe you.”

“Fine.” If only because there is nothing that will get him out of it. “We’re leaving at 11.”

* * *

Standing in Heathrow with Spencer and Alex throw him for something of a loop. It’s different when he sees them in the bar across from one another than the bright lights of the airport standing next to one another. Spencer is wearing a jumper over her perfectly buttoned up blouse with the collar peeking out the top, to which she put her trench coat over it. It’s entirely Spencer. Alex remains in her heavy eyeliner as she wears her leather jacket covering the obvious black skin tight shirt underneath. It’s entirely Alex. The only thing they in common is the jeans they are wearing, but he’s willing to bet Alex’s are worn in versus Spencer’s are the second time she’s worn them after her mother shoved the pair at her.

They are the least identical twins he’s ever seen even when they look at him with that same blank expression questioning while he’s just staring at them without saying anything. He smiles, as if he’s not studying them, until they are both crossing their arms and all he can do is laugh. It’s then, right there, he doesn’t have any worries about anything. It’s just an amusement that washes over him so completely the ridiculousness of it all hits him. Spencer and Alex are twins.

It’s so silly when it’s so bloody obvious. Of course they are. He knew the minute she clarified that she was not Spencer and from then things shifted in a whole other direction. If any family was going to have a secret child, outside of Jason DiLaurentis, it was the Hastings. Didn’t think the girl would be from England but he supposes it’s better than her being right under their noses the entire time.

“You two look like you came out of The Shining.”

Alex smiles. “Thank you.”

Spencer smiles just like her sister. “My flight is going to board. Could you give us a minute, Wren?”

“Yeah, I’ll be over there.” He points to some aimless spot where he walks to and just stares up at all of the flights that are boarding. It’s about as interesting as watching paint dry when he’s not actually going anywhere. When he does happen to look over to Alex and Spencer standing there Spencer is smiling in that genuine way that made him fall for her in the first place. He knows she’s still mad at him but she’s not Charlotte. It amazes him that she’s related to Charlotte with all of this. A detail he forgot to tell her and now it’s just...not the time. He doesn’t want his last memory of her to be her as she walks away from him angry for leaving out a few more choice details.

Alex looks just as happy as she hugs Spencer. _Actually hugs._ It’s different from how she was with Charlotte but he thinks it’s a good thing. Spencer is not the type to cast family aside just because. Even when they kissed in her bedroom she did all she could to make amends with Melissa. Always making amends with Melissa no matter how dark their moments were. A quality he admires. He makes a mental note to call his own mum. Not that they had a falling out just that time passes them by and suddenly he realizes how long it’s been since he’s bothered to call.

Spencer slips off from Alex and walks over to him, stopping with a look on her face that causes his own to fall to something _softer_. He’s always had something of a soft spot for her. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not.” Spencer denies but even her smile is weak. “Thank you, for Oxford and St. Andrews. You didn’t have to.”

“I’m always pleased to do you a favor.” He reaches and tucks her hair behind her ear before running his fingers along her jawline. “Text me when you land.”

“I will.” She promises. “Goodbye, Wren.”

He stands there in a bit of a frozen haze that is something entirely too dramatic the way he watches her leave. It’s not as if he’ll never see her again, but the moments they shared while she was there happened to be ones he enjoyed most of all with all their memories. Her being drunk in his place back in Philadelphia hold a close second. But then she’s walking back to him and it only takes him a moment to realize why. She’s leaning up and kissing him like she did in the streets before she was in Radley. She’s kissing him different than she did in the hotel room. More controlled, no less desire, his hands at her neck as he just lets himself become something of a public spectacle. He doesn’t care. He should but he doesn’t. Not the way they remain as they are until she’s pulling away from him just enough to let out a breath, the soft smile across her lips one he won’t forget.

When he opens his mouth to say something she puts a finger to lips. “Shh, don’t.”

She’s gone after that. Walking away as Wren stands there and Alex walks over to him with that questioning look she’s had before when he’s left out a few details.

“She can’t be all prim and proper if she’s shagging her sister’s boyfriend.”

“You have no idea.”

* * *

Wren quickly learns just how much Alex values having a sister she never did. No matter how many times he asked what Spencer spoke to her about as they made it out from the airport did she manage to tell him. He assumes it’s nothing really worth telling. Doubtful that Spencer shared any deep, dark secret standing in an airport, but they are closer than when Spencer was all but yelling at him. At least through Alex’s eyes and her ability to accept someone within ten minutes of meeting them.

Spencer takes longer to adjust but he thinks if she ends up at Oxford in the fall it’s plenty of time.

When he steps through the door of the flat he walks in to see Melissa cooking, something that strikes him as odd. Usually she’s buried in work, as is he, and their eating habits aren’t always the most stellar. They are working on it as they always like to say with Colin usually filling in the gaps.

“You’re cooking.”

“I got off early.” She smiles over him. “It’s just us so I thought we would have dinner.”

Wren smiles almost as if he’s wearing a mask. The idea is good and the thought of just a quiet night gives him more peace than his running mind. “Do you want some help?”

“No, I got it.”

“I’m taking the six am shift for the next few days.”

“I have a major presentation at the end of the week.” Melissa counters, “I don’t think we should have let Spencer go home. If they find Alison guilty…”

“We can’t control what a jury thinks.”

“No, I know.” She lets out a deep breath and stops stirring the pot, glancing over at him with a pained look in her eyes. “If Spencer goes to jail that’s a mark she won’t get rid of.”

“Your parents are lawyers.”

Melissa has this look that tells him she wants to say something but is keeping it to herself in the end. He walks over and grabs a bottle of wine. “Why don’t we have dinner, drink this, be an old couple and go to bed obnoxiously early and you can worry about it when the time comes. Spencer won’t even land for a few more hours and if something happens Veronica will call you.”

Melissa looks between him and the bottle of wine before relenting. “Just tonight. I’m worrying every day this week and even a bottle of wine with your British charm won’t stop me.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less.”

They talk through dinner like they’ve been talking through the past few months. Sometimes he thinks that Melissa has a list of approved topics somewhere in the flat she looks at on occasion so she doesn’t deviate. They certainly do not share everything. Only even moved to discussing Spencer since she was showing up in London. He talks like he’s not harboring a few major secrets from her and she talks like she doesn’t have a million questions. They never speak of Ian or her baby, or anything that happened in Rosewood. It’s cordial almost. In a way he usually cannot read.

She ends up kissing him like she always does when he crosses the line he doesn’t even know is there. It’s comfortable. the pattern and the comfort. She is calmer than he ever remembers her being but can see the worry in her eyes and the way she’s stressed beyond words. His own stressors come from a million different spots to be able to pinpoint them.

His mind shuts off when she drags him to their bedroom. It’s no fun if he’s filled with guilt and secrets he knows Melissa can read. Shutting it off is the way it goes until their lost in a moment that ends with her climbing off of him and settling herself on the bed.

He barely manages to catch his breath when his phone is buzzing on the nightstand. The moment he sees it being from Spencer he stiffens slightly, in a way that Melissa notices.

“Who is it?”

“One of the patients...it’s not important.”

Melissa’s own phone goes off and she groans as she gets out of bed. “It’s my boss. I’ll be a minute.” He watches as she puts on her robe and slips out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Her voice echoes of the bathroom walls in that harsh way it does when she’s stressed.

 **[ Spencer; 10:27 PM ]:** I’m home.

 **[ Wren; 10:29 PM ]:** You doing alright?

 **[ Spencer; 10:30 PM ]:** Since Melissa didn’t chain me to a bed I’m sure my mom will.

 **[ Wren; 10:31 PM]:** I’m starting think that’s a desire of yours.

 **[ Spencer; 10:36 PM ]:** That’s…   
**[ Spencer; 10:36 PM ]:** Shut up.   
**[ Spencer; 10:37 PM ]:** Go to sleep.

 **[ Wren; 10:38 PM ]:** Sweet dreams.

* * *

Things slip into their normal pattern once Spencer is safely back home in Rosewood. It’s easier to focus on work after that, making sure that everything is running smoothly. He and Melissa continue in their same dynamic as always. That Hastings’ drive is definitely nothing to be messed with, a thread that makes him see how Spencer and Melissa are sisters. It leads them to a cycle of spending some nights together and some nights apart. Colin brings a new girl around that is blonde, a little bubbly, and reminds him a bit of Hanna.

He learns that Alex and Spencer decide to confront the Hastings after graduation in a few months. It seems a ways away but Alex seems happy with the choice. Wren wonders how that will go. He suspects that Spencer will ask her own questions first before bringing Alex in. There’s something to be said about it, though. The way Spencer is far more open than Charlotte ever was. Family was always something of a common drive but Charlotte is far more selective. Spencer wants answers and those answers seem to keep pointing to secret siblings she never knew she had.

Mostly his life just remains as routine as ever. It’s something he is pleased with while finding it oddly boring all at the same time. His life isn’t boring, however, not really. Not when he has a bunch of different patients who are facing their own issues in ways that are simply fascinating in a bunch of ways. Or even Alex going on about her texts with Spencer. Even he and Melissa manage to find the definition of the word fun.

It’s just missing Spencer.

He checks up on her every once in awhile. He replies are short. He does know the trial isn’t going all that well but does his best not to buy into that. Melissa is on pins and needles as it is, as if she actually cares much for Alison. He’s only met the girl once when she was with Charlotte. The tales of her painted something of a different story than anything he saw with his own eyes.

None of that really matters when he sees Melissa walking down the hall to him with that fierce look in her eyes. She’s angry but he notices the panic that comes off her, the way her eyes are just a little too red for anything she would ever desire to be seen in public. She doesn’t need to say anything before he knows it’s about Spencer. In a different world he might think it’s about him sleeping with her, but it’s not. Not with the trial going on, not with the trial going south. He knows better.

“Spencer,” she says, letting out a breath, “Alison was convicted of murder and Spencer was arrested. They were all arrested.”

He closes his eyes as he processes the information. No part of him thinks they actually killed Mona. Spencer he knows for certain but his other contact with other girls leads him to think they are not as cold blooded as it suggests. But then there’s the thought of Spencer in jail that brings nothing good. It means that they think she did and she’s close to throwing away her whole future because of it.

“I have to go to Rosewood. My mom and dad and Spencer. God, I’m…”

Wren hugs Melissa then, letting her mumble into his shoulder and be upset. She has ever right. The sister she was trying to protect ended up being arrested for murder anyway. He’s not surprised when she tells him that they shouldn’t have listened to either Spencer nor him, but he doesn’t care about her attitude. Not when Spencer is in jail.

“Take the first flight out. I’ll fly out in a few days.”

“Wren, my parents hate you. I can go alone.”

“I’ll fly out in a few days.”

“Yeah, okay.” Melissa manages to straighten herself up. “I’ll call you once I get there and talk to my parents.”

* * *

Alex holds a look of surprise when she sees him walk through the door to the pub she works at. “I thought you were going to Rosewood.”

Wren shrugs and takes a seat. He’s a little wet from the rain and Melissa was short with him ever since she left. “My flight leaves in a few hours.”

“Why are you even bothering? That girl is a whole hell of a lot of bloody messes.”

“You don’t understand.” She can’t. Not when he looks at Alex and sees Alex but when he looks at Spencer...it’s Spencer. “She’s your sister. Arrested or not. She’s your sister and if you want to meet Peter.”

“I know.” She resigns after a moment. “I thought she’d be different. I’m not a girl with high expectations either.”

“Tell me this isn’t Charlotte.” They are the only words he can manage to think of. The only ones that make any sense to him but no sense at all. If Alison didn’t murder Mona then someone had to, but Charlotte seemed to care for Alison in a way he never understood. Family, he supposes. Look how far that got Alex. There’s just something off about it that he can’t put his finger on. It doesn’t help that Charlotte and Archer are both not choosing to answer his calls.

“It’s not. I promise.”

He doesn’t believe her but doesn’t press the issue any further.

* * *

He’s been up for far too long by the time Melissa stumbles in from the barn, eyes attached to her phone. He got caught in the most uncomfortable conversation with Peter. He doesn’t blame the man for hating him, he just wishes he didn’t have to deal with him on his own. But it’s not of much importance as he sits there at the kitchen island with coffee that rivals anything Melissa could ever make.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.” Melissa dismisses as she looks through the fridge.

“I had a conversation with your father while you were getting ready.”

“What did he say?”

“I think it’s more what he _didn’t_ say.”

Melissa turns to pour herself some coffee, leaving her back facing him. She taps her fingers along the counter which only serves to make him more suspicious. Melissa has little tells he’s come to know quite well. They are often a little dance of just what they weren’t saying. Normally, he’ll let it go, as he knows how much she lets go. Sitting in her parent’s kitchen, however, leaves him with little patience to try and figure out what Rosewood specific secret she is hiding. This is her territory, not his.

“Mom said I had to keep it to myself but Spencer, the _girls_ ,” she grits out that last park, “were...taken.”

“Taken?”

“During transport.” She turns to him, still not bothering to look at him, only her coffee. “No one has seen them since.”

It’s not what he expects to hear. Not that he’s certain what he expected to hear come from Melissa. He takes a sip of the coffee he doesn’t really need as he processes the information. The concern for Spencer is immediate, to which a guilt flashes through him. For a myriad of reasons. It’s not as if he should not care for the sister of his girlfriend, he should. It’s only everything else that is his own secret.

“Come here.” He reaches out for Melissa who walks around the counter. She easily slips into his embrace. It’s then he closes his eyes and allows everything to wash over him. The concern is deep and absolute, in a way that tells him more than it doesn’t. “They’ll be found. Your father can scare the vinegar out of anyone to get answers on his daughter.”

Melissa smiles, the chuckle so soft it barely registers. “I don’t know if that includes Alison.”

“Be bloody stupid not to.” When she pulls away he manages to muster up a smile for her.

“I told my mom I’d go talk to Jason.” She manages to get out as she stands up straight, carefully fixing herself so she looks more like a Hastings than he can ever remember. “We are going to talk to Jason.”

“I’ll meet you in a few minutes. I just need to make a call.”

“Five minutes.”

Wren watches as she grabs her cup of coffee and walks out to the back. There’s an unsettling feeling inside of him, one where he’s on the receiving end of a secret, not just the one hoarding them. His coffee cup ends up in the sink as he walks into the dining room he’s only ever seen the Hastings use once, taking the privacy it granted, not even bothering to turn the light on. He calls Charlotte, unsure what to ask, but knowing something doesn’t feel right. The game was over, he was assure by her, Archer, and Alex. Surely, Alex would not allow for Charlotte to hurt Spencer. Or so he hoped they were all decent enough to...it’s a laughable thought he doesn’t bother to finish. Not when he knows Charlotte isn’t even a decent person. One who can’t pick up her phone at that.

“Bloody Hell.” He doesn’t bother leaving a message as he texts Alex and walks out to meet Melissa before she comes in search of him. He supposes sitting in the dark in her dining room while making a phone call seems odd, even for him.

 **[ Wren ; 7:01 AM ]:** Where is Charlotte?

 **[ Alex; 7:03 AM ]:** Haven’t heard from her.

 **[ Wren ; 7:04 AM ]:** Since?

 **[ Alex; 7:05 AM ]:** At least a week.

 **[ Wren ; 7:06 AM ]:** Are you lying to me?

“I’m coming.” Wren replies just as Melissa calls out for him noticing the way Alex simply leaves him on read, instilling very little faith in anything he thought he knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much like her addiction to the pills it seems her addictive tendencies covers all facets of her life. She needs answers.

**DAY ONE**

The only thing Spencer thinks as she opens her eyes is that she’s in her room. It’s... _ nice _ . The feel of the comforter is heavy on her, bringing a secure feeling that she’s lost with everything else. It doesn’t feel right though. She wonders if it’ll ever feel right, like she didn’t make such a mess of everything, like she doesn’t always make such a giant mess of everything. Until it dawns on her that her arrest is simply the latest problem in a list of many. She pulls back the comforter just enough to see what she’s wearing, her orange jumpsuit, something that causes her to throw the rest of it off and sit up quickly. 

This isn’t her room. 

It’s not her house. 

Something is wrong. 

Most of the things around her aren’t real. Copies of things she has at home.The frame that holds nothing more than the image that comes with the frame holds her and Toby at home. Guilt shoots through her as she thinks about him. Things have been so hard for them lately she didn’t even bother speaking more than a few words to him when they were both at the courthouse. She loves him but sometimes love isn’t enough. Not when she’s out there finding comfort in literally anyone that isn’t him, finding excitement where she shouldn’t. Wren always sends a thrill through her, since the moment she met him in her backyard. It’s addictive, just like most things in her life are. 

Only there is no comfort and no excitement anymore.

It’s fear. Just fear. Nothing more. 

She swallows as she looks around the room and tries to piece things together. It’s what she’s good at. Her mind works faster than she can keep up with sometimes. Her eyes settle on the chair Toby made her, only to find that Toby didn’t make it all. It’s from a manufacturer. It’s the same, though. She’s spent more time than she can count in that chair. Whoever brought her there had it made. It creeps her out in the way she hasn’t felt in a long while, since Ian was living with them. 

Ian killed himself and she’s going to die in there.

_ Fitting _ .

She throws the chair through the glass window in hopes that it brings her closer to a freedom she desperately desires. She’s not panicking, not yet. She’s close. Fear and worry flood her like the worst anxiety she’s ever had. Says a lot when most of her life is filled with worry and fear that only went away when she was lost in pills. The glass shatters only to reveal what she believed to be the moment she looked throughout the window. It’s a wall. There’s nothing there. 

No way out. 

She’s  _ stuck _ .

Briefly she thinks about crying and screaming out but doesn’t bother. Not when she knows it won’t do anything. There’s a camera in the corner that is watching her every move and it makes her feel sick. She wants to be free, not watched like she’s an animal in a cage. It’s  **A** . She has no doubt that’s exactly who it is as she falls back against the carpet and tries her best to breathe. No one will be able to calm her out of her panic attack when she’s alone. 

It’s just her. 

Hanna, Aria, and Emily must be in rooms of their own but as she sits there it’s just her and that scares her more than anything.

The loud and artificial voice that booms through the room serves as a distraction. It welcomes her in English, German, and Spanish. An odd trio if she ever hears one. Immediately she thinks of anyone she knows who speaks all three. She doesn’t. Then the door buzzes open and creaks as it pushes open. The directions are for her to exist and follow the lighted pathway, but she can’t imagine that bring anything good. 

Nothing good is going to come.

Still. She does it. She follows the rules as she walks out and sees the hall. More walls. The others soon join her and when she wraps her arm around Emily it’s the only comfort she manages to find. It lasts no more than a split second as she turns and looks around, trying to find answers where there are none. 

It’s just them. Being dolls. 

Normally Hanna’s use of  _ bitch  _ serves to amuse her, especially with  **A** , but nothing amuses her. Instead they all walk down the lighted pathway. Emily grabs onto her arm and she lets out a shaky breath. They walk slightly behind Aria and Hanna, fear radiating off all four of them in waves she can feel. It only sets her nerves more on edge. 

The lighted pathway stops them at a room with the soft sound of music coming from it. She inhales sharply as the door pushes open and see someone sitting at the piano. At first glance she thinks it’s Alison. The hair and the top make it so, sending her back to the night she runs from at every possible chance. She still only remembers bits and pieces, never able to trust herself about what really happened. Not even able to completely trust Alison’s version of events.

As they walk closer she knows it’s not Alison, though. Not with the completely plastic mask on her face and the way she doesn’t miss a note in the song. She was always endlessly competitive with Alison and remembers they way they would fight over who could play it properly before Alison would hurl a mean comment at her and storm out of the room. She wishes things were that simple again.

She doesn’t expect for it to be Mona under the mask and doesn’t hide the shock and horror on her face. 

Mona is  **alive** . 

When Mona declares herself Alison she realizes just what kind of fucked up house of horrors they are in. The girls always die in those movies and that’s why she hates to watch them. Emily always picks them and they always manage to send Spencer’s mind into overdrive of what is going to happen to them. Some nights she would write her thoughts off as being nothing more than anxious manifestations, but now it’s a reality. 

They sit for tea time and she only feels her frustration grow. Somehow, the fear manages to calm within her and she’s just annoyed. Mona is acting like Alison completely. From the color of her hair to the insults she hurls to the way she carries herself. It’s entirely Alison in an odd way. She doesn’t think Mona chooses to be there but she has so many questions she doesn’t know where to start.

By the time she thinks of something to say there are chimes and Mona is walking out of the room. They follow her until they are sitting around a game. She never manages to open to see her who her prom date is and she thinks that is for the better.  **A** knows about her little tryst with Wren but she doesn’t want anyone else to know. Bigger things to worry about but somehow he manages to make his way in.

Things backfire all too quickly until the alarms are blaring and she’s covering her ears to drown the noise out. She follows Mona’s direction and runs back to her room before the door slams behind her. 

Quiet. 

She moves to open the door again but it’s locked, locking her in the room that is hers but not hers all in one. 

She remembers the time she had the flu and would stare out the window for hours on end while her father confined her to the bedroom. Everyone else was out of town and he had no idea how to take care of a sick Spencer. He tried, for that she smiles as she looks out the window. Even in her worst moments and knowing that her dad has been lying to her for years it’s hard to hate him as she stands there. She hopes they know she’s missing and are looking for her. 

In the corner she remembers the time she kissed Wren for the first time. He kissed her but she didn’t stop it. It felt good,  _ nice _ , but totally wrong so she put a stop to it. Not that it stopped Melissa from finding out and hating her. She patched things up with Wren though. Sleeping with her sister’s boyfriend is far worse than kissing him. If she never makes it out maybe Melissa never has to know. She can tell Wren under no circumstances will it happen again and he should be with Melissa. If  **A** lets that actually happen.

The bed holds the memory of when she had sex for the first time with Toby. Everything fell apart after that and sex isn’t exactly ever doing her any favors other than feeling good. Really good. There’s a sigh that slips from her as she walks on over to the bed, laying down on it. Most days being able to lay on her bed in the middle of the day is a luxury...or what she thinks is the middle of the day. She doesn’t know, assumes they are underground, but does it anyway. The lights shut off just as she does and she lays under the covers. 

Night or a signal for night.

She’s exhausted but sleep is impossible to come by when she lays her head on the pillow. She’s half terrified it’s going to kill her in the middle of the night, but she doesn’t have much of a choice, does she? The amount of times she closes her eyes to open them back up is borderline ridiculous. She sees flashes of her past and scenarios of potential futures she can really do without. Freedom is something she misses, even if she barely had any to begin with. At least she wasn’t a doll in a house. 

How much time passes when she’s laying there’s she’s unsure but then Mona is pushing her door open telling her to come out. She learns about the generator before she has to go back to her room. It only makes her think. 

If there’s a way in there’s a way out. Something has to be on the other side of that door. Probably something  **A** doesn’t want them to see. She wonders how important food and water are to her when she thinks about making a path for it the next night. It’s reckless and stupid but she doesn’t really have that much to lose, does she? 

It’s only when she’s thinking of plan does she manage to find sleep. 

**DAY FIVE**

Any thought of her ability to survive without food and water is gone when they are still stuck outside after trying to make a break for it, feeling like they were actually getting somewhere. She feels hungry, tired, and cold. She doesn’t know what to do or say. They talk absently but it’s nothing of substance. She’s half certain her brain is melting into a puddle of nothing. It won’t make a difference if they have to spend more time out there.

All she does is think. Think about anything that can possibly keep her from thinking of the harsh realities that lie before them. She wants things to be good and she wants to go home. It feels so childish to keep wishing that she’s at home dealing with everything, but there’s a certain expectation of what can come at home. Out there they have nothing. 

“I had sex with Wren in London.” She doesn’t necessarily mean to blurt it out but the secret is itching at her.

“What?” The rest of them say in unison as they look at her with wide eyes.

“What about Toby?” Emily asks in a far too judgemental tone.

“He’s not even speaking to me.” She shrugs, acting as if it’s anything of a proper excuse. “I wasn’t thinking. When I’m around Wren my brain just doesn’t work.”

“I can’t believe you slept with Downtown Grabby.” Hanna whispers at her.

“Well you had just gotten arrested.”

Hanna shoots her a glare. “So, it’s my fault?” 

“ _ No _ ,” Spencer emphasizes. “I don’t regret it.  **A** knows. I’m sure Melissa will, too.”

“He knows about  **A** .” Mona informs after a moment of silence.

“What?” Spencer doesn’t trust her for anything but there’s something about the words that just sting. “That’s not…”

“When I was in Radley. He was my doctor. He has secrets Spencer.”

“I know he has them.” Spencer bites back at her. “We  _ all  _ do. That’s why we’re here.”

“He was the one who manipulated your mother into talking to me and got her thrown off of Hanna’s mom case.” Mona only grips herself tighter. “He did it in plain sight.” 

“What?” Hanna and Spencer ask together.

“Maybe he’s...behind this.” Emily’s words are gentle, that soft look in her eye whenever she’s trying to jump too far in the deep end.

“No,” Aria shakes her head, “are we really saying it’s Wren?”

“It’s not.” Spencer immediately dismisses.

Emily keeps her sights focused on her friend. “Spencer…” 

“Maybe he just wanted to gain your trust.” Hanna throws the idea out. “Both of us. Two out of four.” 

“Then who is Charles?” It’s the glaring flaw in everything. He’s a doctor. An actual medical doctor. It’s not the easiest thing to fake.

“We all know things are not always what they seem.” Aria offers.

“Yeah, how is Ezra’s book by the way. Maybe he’s  **A** , too.” Spencer doesn’t bother to hold her tongue. “You’re still sleeping with him right?”

“That’s not…”

“What, fair?” Spencer rolls her eyes. “None of this is  _ fair _ , Aria.”

“Okay, enough.” Emily raises her voice at them both. “We’re not going to get anywhere by fighting.”

Spencer lets the conversation drop mainly because she doesn’t want to fight with Aria over it. She also doesn’t want to think more about it. Only all she does is think about it. Her mind obsesses over it and thinks of every interaction she had with Wren. If it’s true he can’t care for her, but a dollhouse seems extreme.  **A** is extreme, she notes. 

_ It’s always been you, Spencer  _ echos in her head. It seems like a lie even when the words slip from his lips, but as she wraps herself tightly in her dress it seems more...ridiculous. He and Melissa got back together without bothering to tell her. Neither of them ever did and she only found it out because of Toby. She was happy for them, in a way a sister can when Wren means something more than she’s ever willing to admit to herself or anyone else. It’s not even as if they stayed in Rosewood. They live in London. Far away from her and all her dramatics brought on by  **A** . 

“When I was in Radley...he let me sneak out and back in when I was working for  **A** . He’s the one who authorized the passes. He knew about Mona. He knows... _ things _ about my family. He and Melissa kept saying everything was to protect me. From what?” She’s practically talking to herself over anyone else around her. “I’m here. We all are. What if we were wrong? All those times we suspected Melissa and thought she wasn’t it, but what if she is? What if they are doing this to us?” The realization hits her hard and she has to struggle to keep herself together.

“Shh, it’s okay, Spence.” Hanna whispers just as Spencer puts her head on Hanna’s shoulder.

“It’s not. It’s not okay.”

The door clicks open just as the sun rises. They debate about going down there before they decide they need to stick together. There’s no other way. They need to stick together if they are going to survive. Survive is the only thing that matters anymore. If it’s Wren or Melissa who is controlling the entire game she’ll worry about it when the time comes.

She holds onto Emily as they walk back down in the bunker and there’s a new kind of fear. It mixes with everything else inside of her and she thinks of all the movies she’s seen and all the books she’s read. She likes a good tragedy but prays that her life doesn’t turn into one, not anymore than it already is. 

When the gas pours out from the halls she doesn’t think things are looking good.

She’s the last to wake up and hold the sheet tight against her. She can feel that she isn’t wearing any clothes and tries not to think about that means.  _ Charles _ , that’s who she has deduced is behind everything. If that’s a cover for someone else she doesn’t want to know, not as she slips her hand underneath the sheet to feel herself so she doesn’t miss something done to her. The only thing is that she feels clean, unusually clean, as if she was dumped in a whole bath of bleach. 

The pounding in her head makes it harder to think but she assumes  **A** wants to send a message to their parents. She just has a hope that every time her parents, Wren, and Melissa say they want to protect her it means something. If they want to protect her she’ll make it out of there. Otherwise...well, she doesn’t know how long they’ll all be in there. 

Mona’s defiance of **A** seems like a bad idea but she doesn’t move to stop her. Reverting back to being Alison and suddenly deciding that they need to stop listening to the orders being given seems a recipe for disaster. It feels true as they are ordered to go back to their rooms. She’s cautious as she holds the sheet to her, not bothering to take the aspirin or drink the juice, and walk down the hall. 

An ominous feeling washes over her as the door slams behind her and she turns around to look at the room. There are pictures of her on the night of Alison’s disappearance plastered over every inch of the room. The shovel is in her hand as she looks on at Bethany. 

“No, this is... _ no _ .” She murmurs to herself as the room starts echoing with voices of things her parents and Melissa have said to her over the years. Reminding her just how much she doesn’t fit in with her Hastings family. She’s not her mother’s daughter and things suddenly fit in place. No wonder she was the outcast while Melissa was shown as some golden child. She is their child. It reads like a sad novel and it is sad.  _ Everything  _ is sad. 

Her bed is covered in pictures of her and Wren. From the time she kissed him after she found out Toby was working for the A team to them running through the streets of London to compromising positions of them in what she thought was a place no one was watching them. She doesn’t think  **A** is using him against her to hurt her, but to flood her with a  _ guilt _ . It’s one that comes all too easily when she picks up one of the pictures, her sheet falling a little too much, something she dismisses. 

“You’re not going to break. Not again.” She speaks as she looks at the camera with a conviction. “Not with my parents, not with Melissa, not with Wren, not with Toby, my friends, anyone. I’m stronger now. You will not break me.” 

**DAY NINE**

Her back is sore as she sits in the middle of the room staring at the plate of food on the floor. It comes every day at the same time. Not that she’s really sure what time it is. In the beginning she tried to keep track but being underground doesn’t do much to give her any sense of the time of day. That and she’s always awake. The pills started a day after she came back to her room covered in the pictures and audio of everything. Probably because she said she wouldn’t be broken.

**A** is determined to make sure it’s not true.

It’s awful in that really good way. It’s  _ torture _ , she knows. To give her the pills that send her right back into a relapse but ones that make her feel so at peace with herself. She does get ancy a lot, almost wants to claw at her own skin, wondering if they are laced with something more. Wouldn’t put it past **A** given she’s stuck there. Even tried to refuse the pills a few times over before it only resulted in her being harmed more and the alarms blaring for everyone.

She couldn’t do that to her friends forever. 

**A** never takes the food back no matter if she eats it or not. Leading to her always consuming it in the end but she feels more lost and tired than she does most days. It’s not her turn for the little torture games that lead her to the pain and tears she can’t keep at bay. She knows it’s just someone else on the receiving end, to which she doesn’t think about. She wants to protect them but she can’t even protect herself. 

She doesn’t really know how long she’s been sitting there staring into space. A while, she assumes. The water bottle is warm and her brain is a mess of jumbled thoughts. She’s tired but awake all at the same time. There are two pills sitting in the corner of the tray and she’s trying to resist. She needs to detox but knows it’s not that simple. In her body or on everyone else. She needs to keep them all alive...if they are even still alive.

She hasn’t seen Hanna, Aria, or Emily since they moved from the morgue to their rooms. She doesn’t hear them much as of late. Doesn’t hear much of anything anymore. She worries about Mona, in a slightly surprising twist of events. There’s so much that flows through her mind she feels something nearly broken inside of her. 

**A** can’t know that. 

“I’ll take the pills.” She says after a few minutes, toying with them on the tray. “Wouldn’t want your game to be disrupted.”  

Her eyes close as she does just that, picking at the food on the tray after.  _ Alive _ . She needs to stay alive. It’s a punishment for everything, that’s all too clear. She’s done a lot of terrible things over the years and in some way doesn’t blame  **A** for the torture that is placed upon her. There are lessons she never seems to learn. Sleeping with Wren is clear on her mind with her inability to learn lessons. It doesn’t help she misses him. She  _ actually  _ misses him. Something she never thought would happen, nor would there be an ache right next to Toby. She’s supposed to be a loving girlfriend but loving girlfriends didn’t sleep with other guys just because they weren’t speaking to their boyfriends, didn’t kiss other guys either. 

She falls back onto the floor and ignores the pain on her back. An attempt to close her eyes does nothing with how awake she is, only opening them up when it feels near painful. Everything is painful. 

“ _ Wren _ ,” she gets the courage to whisper, avoiding looking in the direction of the camera at all costs. “I don’t know that it’s you. Things don’t add up but I don’t think you’re this... _ insane _ . Maybe it is. Maybe I don’t know you at all. It didn’t feel like you in that suit. It didn’t smell like you. You wear the same cologne,  _ always _ ,” she closes her eyes as a small smile finds her, “and it’s the one Melissa bought for you. It’s  _ nice _ . Comfortable. You were never safe. Toby is safe. You are wrong,  _ dirty _ , but you look at me like you actually care. You’re always there when I need you. You’re secretive, mystery, but gentle. The way you whisper my name.  _ Spencer _ ,” she does her best impression, ‘“I don’t know...if it s you I hate you. I want to believe you wouldn’t do this to me, but if you knew...if you knew and left me here to die then I don’t know you at all.”  

The room remains silent but she feels watched, like she isn’t alone, while knowing she is alone. The door didn’t unlock so no one could enter, leading her to just remain there. 

“Why would you get my mom thrown off Ashley Marin’s case? I can’t piece it together. Wildren tried to kill me. Ian tried to kill me. This  **A** is trying to kill me. Would almost make sense if it was you. It hurts more than I anticipated it would though.” 

There’s an ache in her chest that she doesn’t understand and she wants to understand. It’s not like she’s in love with Wren. In some alternate universe she’s sure she can be, but the reality before them makes it so she isn’t. She went to Toby when he went to Melissa. It’s so messy. If it is him though...she can feel the first cracks beginning to find her.

**DAY TWELVE**

Just being in the room makes her feel like she’s going to be sick, a wave of nausea that she has to hold back. She’s been conditioned enough to know what is going to happen and is willing to do anything to make the outcome different. It’s too much. Some days she’s far more fragile than she likes to admit to, but she is. The tears form in her eyes as she walks down the hall, following the lighted pathway, and walking into the room that are familiar with her screams. 

There’s hesitation as she looks down at the board and takes a seat in the chair. She wonders how many times Hanna, Aria, and Emily sit in that very chair. Probably the same as her, if **A** wants to play even. **A** never strikes her as someone who wants to play fair, not when they are trapped in some dollhouse and the idea of ever getting out is slipping away with each day. She misses home and sleep and being outside and would even take Melissa yelling at her right about now.

“Please choose a name.” The electronic voice announces through the speakers.

“No.” She whispers, a little louder than she has all the other days, in a way she knows she’ll pay for it.

“Please choose a name.”

“I’m not going to hurt my friends.”

“Please, choose a name.” 

Spencer stares down at the pictures of her friends before her. The adderall is coursing through her system, forcing her to keep her eyes open and focus so intently on each of them. She misses and hates them all in one disorderly go. She wants to hug Hanna and feel the way the other girl leans into her, the way Aria grips like she’s about to die with every hug, and the way Emily lets out the soft exhale when she’s content in the arms of someone else. 

But she also hates them for everything that has happened over the years. She hates that she met Alison and them. She hates the way Hanna will drive her crazy and not listen to reason. She hates the way she can’t go five minutes without hearing about Ezra. She hates that stupid book. She hates how much Emily loves Alison for the simple fact the part of her that can love slips further away as the months tick by.

She hates all of it.

She hates the way she admitted to Wren and they all put those stupid ideas in her head. She wants to cry at the thoughts of everything that’s happened over the years. She can’t take it. She’s slowly breaking but doesn’t want  **A** to win. Part of her feels like there’s no way out. She feels like she’s in Radley over again and everyone is staring at her like she’s about to crumble. None of them are staring at her though. It’s just the memories and what her eyes make out in the darkness.

She’d almost rather be in Radley. 

At least there were other people. She could talk to Wren or Eddie or another patient who didn’t know who she was. She sat there in the circle and felt a void that felt so nice. She wants to feel that again. The drugs don’t really help with that. They make her on all the time. They make her anxiety kick into overdrive so she sits in that bed day after day staring into absolute nothingness while her brain tries to piece things together.

Nothing ever comes. 

Nothing makes sense.

Sometimes she thinks **A** should just kill her. It makes for a better story. She’s not ready to die. It’s just some moments pass her by in which she isn’t sure how much more she can take. It’s a lot, too much almost, combining with thoughts that are more dangerous than most that run through her head.

The instructions are heard three more times before she feels a jolt move through her, causing her to jump a little in her seat, and bite down on her lip. It hurts but that’s the point, it’s meant to hurt, meant for her to remember. She’ll remember forever. Her body runs hot in the outfit A chooses for her. The pants feel thick and heavy against her skin. The button up under the sweater she’s wearing is stuck to her in the way that makes it feel like she’s caught in a summer storm when the humidity makes her want to lock herself in her bedroom with the window shut. 

In some way, she misses her actual room. 

She misses the way she used to be able to look out the window and see Alison’s room. It brought her some suffering over the years. Like the time Ian kissed her in that very room after kissing her in the backyard and she could see Alison’s face through the window. She watched with an obsession that she later used against her. If Alison had been around when she was kissing Wren no doubt the obsession would be the same. 

Only she wasn’t.

Alison couldn’t been seen from her window.

No one could. 

It was just her.

_ Alone _ . 

She swallows when the next jolt runs through her. Between that and being alone her mind is something of a jumbled mess. She likes being around people and her friends. She almost always is. The most time she ever spent alone was when she was lost in the drugs, which almost seems fitting as she’s about to bounce out of her chair just from being restless. She wants to run, far away, if only for a few moments, to just feel something other than the suffocation. 

“Please choose a name.”

“I heard you.” If Hanna was there she’d of said  _ bitch _ , which gives her something of a smile. The smile falters almost instantly as she looks down at the pictures and shuts her eyes. She does her best to be even in who she chooses but sometimes it’s too hard and she just allows her hand to land on someone. 

Today it’s Emily and her scream echoes throughout the room. 

She cries the moment she gets back to her room and doesn’t know how she’ll ever look at any of them in the face again.

**DAY FIFTEEN**

The pills stop showing up two days prior, or what Spencer  _ thinks  _ is two days. She’s gotten decent at figuring out how much time is passing her back. Two weeks, roughly, if she’s managed to be right. There’s nothing to tell her if that’s true though. Her brain is fuzzier than ever and her environmental factors are beginning to get to her. She’s borderline going insane in the way she’d likely get a lifelong stint in Radley.

She’s dependant on the adderall by now, itching in her room when there isn’t any, a desperate need overcoming her. It makes her feel too weak to function and she’s cried so many times she doesn’t know what to do. It’s not fair that she is like this and Jason is right along with her. 

_ Jason _ .

She misses him, misses the only brother she has. They quarrel more often than not, especially in the events leading up to being kidnapped. She hopes he is worried but doesn’t know that he is. Doesn’t know that any of her family is. Maybe they think it’s better that she’s gone. She thinks it’s probably better that she’s gone. There are a lot less complications when she’s gone. She’s not there to mess up anyone’s lives more than she already is. 

She throws off the covers in a huff, getting frustrated by being stuck there. It doesn’t take her long to throw one of the pillows at the decorations sitting on the dresser opposite her. Every time she leaves and returns to the room there’s something more. She doesn’t want or need any of it. She just wants to be home, to be outside, to be free. She isn’t getting that anytime soon.

The sound of the camera zooming in on her only makes her narrow her gaze in a glare at it. She’s been exposed in every which way that there’s little left to feel much shame about. Doesn’t bother her much that she threw a pillow and knocked over the dumb little display. 

“Charles,” she mutters, the name that is on her mind more than Wren’s in her list of possible suspects, “is that what turns you on? Kidnapped girls.  _ Hot _ .” 

She’s already traveled through every possible road and just lands on the fact that this all for some sick satisfaction she can’t understand. They’ve been tortured for nearly two years and it was never like this. They were never just dolls living in their rooms and only able to do things at certain times. The only thing she can do on her own watch is sleep and she can never sleep. She almost wishes she can fall into a depression so she can sleep.

Spencer never thought she’d be standing there wishing for more problems. 

The lack of drugs in her system make her easily more frustrated with everything and everyone. She’s bored and restless. It’s quiet except for when she hears someone, Mona, she assumes, walking down the hall to deliver food so they can actually survive. It’s better than the hole, she supposes, but not much better than anything else. 

Her body aches and tingles all in one. She curses herself for all the thoughts that come for her to pass the time. Sometimes it’s simple things like standing in the sun or playing in the snow, but other times it’s Wren and her in that hotel room. Anything to actually get through the days so she doesn't feel like crumbling into a pile of nothing. 

It seems so favorable. 

Her door unlocks and opens just enough, causing Spencer to move herself from the bed and walk to it. It doesn’t close and she decides to follow the lights. No directions guide her but none stop her either. The hall is cold in her tank top and shorts, socks covering her feet with nothing else to bring her warmth. Her arms wrap around herself until she’s in one of the back rooms she’s never been in before. 

There are no expectations anymore. Just following the guide and hoping she doesn’t end up in worse condition. 

The room is exactly like the one she had in Radley, nothing she wishes to relive, but she walks further in anyway. It’s the desk in the corner that manages to grab her attention with files sitting on top of it. For a moment she forgets exactly where she is and takes a seat, opening the file. 

It’s her own with notes about her time in Radley. She skips over most of the details not needing to relieve it. Anxiety seems to be an understatement anyway. It’s not the file so much as the drawing that falls out of it that piques her interest. A drawing from a farm with the only thing colored in a red coat. When she turns it over it has ‘it just goes to show you can’t trust anyone’ written behind it. It strikes her as odd in general but it’s her file being signed by Wren and the drawing itself holding his initials down at the bottom that really cause her brain to tick.

She remembers when Eddie told her that he thought Wren wasn’t working at Radley for the right reasons. She never thought much of it after that. Didn’t focus as Wren and Melissa got back together, as they moved to London, as she found the Adderall and everything focused on Ezra. Wren didn’t seem to be much of a thought one way or the other. The  **A** messages continued whether or not he was in town.

It’s the one flaw in her suspecting him. He lives in London. Melissa wouldn’t cover for him, would she? Would her own sister let her suffer this fate? Even for Melissa that seems…

Melissa once told her that everything she’s done is to protect her since before it even started. She probably means with her mother not actually being her biological mother, but Wilden, Garrett, Jason...it comes to a point where she just doesn’t know anymore. It’s all too complicated, but if anything she needs more answers than she can get while she’s lock underground is some weird torture dungeon.

She only takes the picture from the file, not caring about much else, before she walks back to her room.

**DAY TWENTY**

When her eyes open she is definitely unsure about exactly what day it is. She’s exhausted but she feels more groggy than exhausted, something that as the bright light shines through her window nearly shocks her awake. It’s as her eyes come to fully open and she takes in the surroundings of her bedroom does she feel wet, like she’s sitting in something. Slowly, she looks down to see the blood she’s sitting and covered in. 

Immediately she jolts back and checks herself for wounds. It takes a few moments before she notices the gash on her arm but realizes it doesn’t hurt much. She must be in shock or filled with drugs. She’s not putting anything past  **A** anymore, not when she spends most of her time there having something in her body. 

Her eyes glance over to the body of Noel Kahn, sending her into a frenzy as she crawls over to him, checking him for wounds. He’s the last person she expects to find but can’t actually think much of that now when she’s so desperate to make sure he’s alive. She checks his pulse on his neck and lets out a sigh of relief when she finds it. If nothing else she hasn’t murdered him. She tries to shake him awake, noting how weak she’s gotten by being locked up in there for...weeks, it should be  _ weeks  _ by now. 

“What did I do?” She whispers to herself before looking up at the camera. “What did you make me do?”

Nothing comes in reply as she searches his body, finding a wound on his stomach. It’s bleeding, so much that she knows it’s recent, and only causes her to ask more questions than she has answers for. She pulls off her tank and rips it in half, doing her best to put some pressure on it. 

She’s in full on panic mode, which does nothing to help her. Moments pass in which she wonders if it’s even really, maybe she’s just gone so insane that nothing is real anymore. If she was at home she could at least research the effects of solitary confinement on the brain. But she’s not hope and Noel is letting out a groan as he looks over at her. 

“Always wanted to see Spencer Hastings in her bra just didn’t think this is how it’d happen.”

She smiles, letting out a dry laugh. Not because she finds it funny or even entertaining. Noel was always an Aria thing, not a Spencer thing. But because he’s there and alive and even if it only lasts for a few minutes she’s not alone. That’s the best part, even with the blood, unanswered questions, and the pain that is shooting through her arm. 

She’s not alone.

“Sit up,” she orders, pulling him up as she does, checking him for anything else before they both lean against the bed. “What are you doing here, Noel?”

“Long story.”

She trusts him about as far as she can throw him, which is not at all. “Do you know who  **A** is?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not directly.”

“You’re working against us, aren’t you?” It’s not much of a question, so much as a statement. 

“Our families have a lot of secrets. All three of them.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hastings, Drake, and Khan. Find the common thread and you can unravel the answer.”

“Noel, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your boyfriend knows some answers.”

“Toby?”

“The other one.” He hands her a flash drive. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“Did you put the pills in my locker? Why did you help Ali?”

“The same reason  _ Dr. Kingston  _ did.” He stands and pulls something from his pocket. “Forgive me. I was never here.”

“What?” Before she can even register his hand is covering her mouth with something and she slowly loses consciousness.

**DAY TWENTY ONE**

She wakes up in the bed and has to question everything as the darkness confuses her. Immediately she notices that there is no blood covering her and that she’s wearing something else entirely. She can’t even make sense if Noel is real or not. If he is...she doesn’t want to think of him as the ones who cleaned her up and put her in the new clothes. 

The flash drive immediately hits her and the thought of Wren helping Alison.

As the days pass her by nothing makes any sense.

In a hurry she moves around the room, all but tearing it apart as she looks for that damn flash drive. Not that she has the ability to see what is on it, but she’s leaving with it. That and the drawing she took from the Radley file. She begins to think that Noel and  **A** are two different people, if her mind is to be trusted. It’s not, not when she’s dying for a pill while feeling like she’s going to be sick all at the same time. 

It does make sense that there would be more than one person. Noel couldn’t stay there without arousing suspicion and whoever is doing this to them probably has to keep up appearances. It only brings her back to Wren and Melissa being in on it. Melissa is something of a new addition but she doesn’t think her sister would be blind to anything Wren did. She always had ways of finding things out. Even with Ian she knew so much more and was hell bent on protecting her creep of a husband. Just the thought of Ian has to make her swallow down the contents of her stomach. Locked in a room after she’s been sick seems worse than a lot of things.

She finds the flash drive taped underneath the desk along with the drawing. Noel has to be real. Noel has to be there. She really needs to see her friends, see if they see him, or are close to uncovering any answers. She isn’t close to uncovering any answers at all, only going closer to the brink of insanity. 

It’s those kinds of glimpse that make it easier for her go through the torture. Much like her addiction to the pills it seems her addictive tendencies covers all facets of her life. She needs answers.

**DAY TWENTY EIGHT**

The pills clear her mind in that way she continues to hate herself for taking them. If she doesn’t there’s punishment but she doesn't like that her mind is so messed up it seems she works better when she’s on them. It’s easier to piece everything together when she doesn’t need sleep and she can sit there and run through her entire life in her mind. So little is real. 

She hates that it’s not even anything she sees as a bad thing anymore. The bad part are the days where she doesn’t have the pills, when the withdrawal symptoms hit her and she feels like death warmed over. If **A** is going to mess with their lives she’s at least going to enjoy what she can. 

That’s how she knows just how fucked up she is.

Her eyes open as she sits up in her bed, feeling the weight shift. It’s  _ Alex _ , looking at her in a gentle way that only makes something sad wash over her. Sadness seeps in a little more than it used to. She takes things as they come. Her days increase with the little game  **A** plays. If she has to pick which one of her friends to harm again she’s going to insane, find a way to be tortured just so she doesn’t have to hurt another. It’s Hanna’s scream that resonates in her mind more often than not. 

“What are you doing here?” She whispers, only able to look for a moment before shutting her eyes. It’s a hallucination. This time she is sure of it. Not like with Noel. He’s questionable enough to make her believe he can be there, but Alex is Alex. She’s a sister she just met and was kept a secret thanks to Wren. That doesn’t instill much faith but more than it does Noel.  

“Shhh.”

“I’m tired. So, so tired. I can’t sleep.” She is desperate for sleep, finding it so hard to function. So much so just having Alex there is nice. “I’m going to die in here.”

“You’re going to be fine, Spencer.” Alex whispers, tucking her hair behind her ears. “You have a whole life to live.”

“I don’t.” The tears fall and she can’t help herself. “I’m drugged and my mind won’t shut off.” She pauses as she tries to contain herself, tries to remember **A** is watching her, that  **A** can see her breaking. “Why didn’t you want me to know you?”

“Cece convinced me, I told you.”

“Is that why she got close to Alison? So, she could keep an eye on me?” It seems stupid and not right. Her mind is running in circles and she feels like she’s missing just one piece. “Is she our sister? Mary  _ Drake _ ? Cece  _ Drake _ ?”

Alex’s fingers stroke her cheek. “You already know the answer to that.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I don’t. She was  _ nice  _ to me. I always wanted a nice sister.”

“You have a nice sister.” 

“I’m not the nice sister.” She murmurs, laying back against the bed. “I don’t deserve the things they to do for me.” 

Alex lays down next to Spencer, glancing over at her briefly. “You don’t deserve this, do you?”

“I think I do.” She swallows as she feels as if she’s falling deeper into a darkness she tries to avoid at all costs. She’s done some terrible things. She continues to do terrible things even though she knows better. The worst part is that she doesn’t always feel the remorse she should. Amends come and go but moments pass her by in which she just needs the answers, needs to win the game she doesn’t even know she’s playing. She’s done it to Melissa and Jason both more times than she can count. Alex doesn’t deserve to see any of that. Twin or no twin. From what little she knows of the girl who looks exactly like her it’s as if their personalities are on opposite ends of the spectrum. As if being raised by Peter Hastings triggered things in her that she cannot run from no matter how hard she tries. “This should have been us. Laying in bed, talking, being  _ sisters _ . Sometimes Melissa and I would lay here until Ian would take her attention.”

“There’s still time for us, Spencer, but you need to get out of here.” 

“I feel like I’m going to die.” She barely manages to get the words out, shutting her eyes as tight as she can. “ **A** is going to win.”

“You’re stronger than that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I bloody do. Live, Spencer.  _ Live _ . For me, for Wren, for Toby.”

She wishes the words would resonate with her but there’s something so false feeling in them. “If Melissa finds out…”

“She won’t. I won’t let her.”

“Promise me something.” Spencer whispers, glancing over at Alex.

“Anything.”

“That if I die in here you,” she takes a breath, “you find the family you need.” 

“I promise, Spencer.”

“I want to be a good sister.” She truly does. Through everything she wants to try.

“I have no doubt.”

“Melissa..we never. I  _ miss  _ her.” she whispers, so softly, a guilt flooding her. “You deserve to know her and Jason and Ali. My parents and everyone…” 

“You need to sleep.” She whispers as she strokes Spencer’s hair. “I’ll be here.” 

She doesn’t believe the words are true but ends up nodding off anyway, managing to grasp some sleep she’s been missing. Not enough. Never enough. The sleep deprivation she’ll blame the hallucination on when she wakes and she’s all alone.

**DAY THIRTY ONE**

She gives up bothering to count the days or find herself in any normal state of mind. Normal is relative and she’s never quite there when she’s outside of the dollhouse. Exhaustion hits her in a wave where she’s not even certain she knows what she’s doing. Existing is a lot harder than she remembers it ever being. That and just how damn restless she feels all of the time. She spends so much of her time trying to keep herself from going insane, but it’s the loneliness that she can’t get rid of. She’s actually hallucinating people to make it so she’s not alone. 

She’ll do anything to not be alone.

Her mind focuses on Wren, Noel, and Alex. Pieces of the puzzle she’s desperate to thread together but simply can’t. They make no sense. Is it her own mind focusing on something she shouldn’t or is there some twisted connection she doesn’t understand? The scar on her arm from her time with Noel is very real, the stitches gone, leaving a mark behind that simply itches beyond belief. She hates that she doesn’t know what it’s from or that **A** actually stitched it up while she was unconscious. 

She misses her parents. She wants to hear her mother’s judgemental voice as she doesn’t fit in the perfect Hastings mold. She wants to listen to her father dismiss any of her inquiries away by telling her to just let things go. She wants to sit awkwardly across from Alex as she doesn’t know what to say. She wants Melissa to yell at her for something, anything. It doesn’t matter. She wants to look at Jason as they fight harder than she and Melissa seem to do, both too much like her father for their own good. She just wants to not be alone and to figure out the answers to her family. None of which she can do while sitting that room and doing her best to not spend most of her time crying.

She’s so sick of crying.

The loud voice comes through the speakers telling them to proceed to Ali’s room for arrival. It’s a different instruction she takes by surprise, grabbing the plaid cardigan on the chair, and putting it on. She doesn’t have much interest to describe more than she has to. Internalizing it all seems a bad idea but with all of their trauma...she wants to deal alone. Alone is something she’s used to. At least with them. She doesn’t want to put anything more than she has to on them.

The first person she sees when she walks through the door is Aria. Her hair is shorter and has pink running through it like it had long ago. Things were so much simpler when Alison was there. Alison was awful sometimes but they weren’t all kidnapped in a dollhouse. Maybe if they were better people back then it wouldn’t even be happening, or maybe  **A** is just some psycho. She doesn’t like to put too much in fate, not like Wren does, but sometimes certain things just seem like fate. 

She struggles to keep it together but knows she has to. If they are ever going to get out of there she has to keep it together. Her body aches in ways she never thought possible, and she just wants to sit and cry. She can’t. She knows she can’t. She’s never been the strongest out of them, but she has to be. At least if she has something to focus her mind on she’ll lose thinking about everything that has happened to her and her friends since they were arrested.

A relief floods through her at learning of Alison’s murder conviction being overturned. She chooses to believe it’s real. If she doesn’t she will think of so many other horrid things her mind doesn’t have the ability to grasp.  **A** wants Ali there with them...after what is at least weeks of them being alone. They need to get out. Not to bring Ali in. Not that it looks good when she reads Alison denied police protection. It makes her vulnerable. Not that the police force is the best around, but it’s something.  She’s sure her father and Jason will mean well in protecting her, but if they were able to be taken while in police custody...she doesn’t have much hope for Alison’s dad being able to protect her. 

Upon going through some of the boxes she notices the C.D. carved into the wooden car. Charles DiLaurentis, especially if it’s in Alison’s things. There is no other explanation for it. This whole thing started because Ali went missing and she vaguely remembers how frustrated Melissa was during that summer. She finds it impossible to believe that everything they’ve been through since that summer is not connected, it has to be. Alison is the catalyst for why they were targeted but she still has so many unanswered questions about what happened that night with the rest of them.

When she finds her way back to her own room there’s a box of things waiting for her on the bed. She’s not really understanding how  **A** is moving around and none of them are seemingly noticing. How  _ Charles  _ is moving around. If it is Charles. She decides not to go down that path again. Not when she is at an inner war with herself about who and what is doing this to them. So many pieces don’t add up and they have never ended up since the whole thing started.

The box is filled with stuff she thought she lost forever ago paired with things she knows she had when she was still at home.  **A** isn’t with them all the time...instead breaking into their houses to make them more at home.  **A** never wants them to leave. Something that makes her feel sick all over again, a feeling she has more often than not as of late. She manages to keep herself at bay before moving to find the others who are in Hanna’s room. 

She takes notice of Hanna instantly and sees how  _ down  _ she is about everything. They all are, really, but there’s something in the way Hanna looks that worries her more than it does with Emily and Aria. She doesn’t bother reading the article about her family when she sees the way Hanna is about to cry. She doesn’t want to know what is going on with her parents or Melissa, not Jason, not...anyone. She can’t keep playing the thoughts of what is happening over and over again. It’s going to make her absolutely crazy.

The only solution is to get out of there.

They need to find Mona and get out.

She keeps track of the generator and since her stay manages to piece the layout together. There’s a lot of time in which she’s simply stuck in her room doing absolutely nothing. She counts the steps from room to room and repeats them over and over in her head until she remembers. She makes sure she remembers. The more details she can keep stored in her mind the more likely they are to find answers when they get out of their. 

The night falls and she makes sure she has the drawing and the usb in her pocket before she opens Hanna’s door to get her, making sure Emily and Aria are with her until they all make their way down to the room she is certain has some passageway. There have to be ways out. If  **A** is able to move around so easily there needs to be secret ways to get out. None are in her own room. She’s tried a million times over no matter she’s being watched or not. 

It’s Emily who manages to find the passageway that leads them into the other room that is filled with all kinds of things that scream Charles DiLaurentis. Pictures. Toys. Plaques. The video on the projector is definitely Jessica, Alison, and Jason. She assumes the other little boy has to be Charles. 

In an odd sort of way it all makes sense. The Hastings’ and the DiLaurentis’ never get along. Melissa hates Alison. Her dad hates the whole family and is never all that favorable towards Jason, his own son. Her mother doesn’t like any of them either. She became close with both Alison and Jason, but neither of their parents were ever any two people she wanted to be alone in a room with. How Hanna, Aria, and Emily factor in she doesn’t quite know, but just being there, in that room, looking at the film play it makes sense. It all makes sense. 

She settles on  **A** being Charles while thinking anyone else is simply helping him. She ignores the shiver that runs down her spine at this all being some guy and his weird obsession with four teenage girls and making them nothing more than his dolls. 

“Game on, Charles.” She bites out as she does the one thing she can think of. 

It’s not long before the room is starting to go up in flames. The only way for them to get out. It can very well kill them but she can’t go back to her room to spend more endless nights where A is using her as his own little guinea pig. She feels sick all of the time. She doesn’t sleep, she never sleeps. She’s pumped full of drugs she can’t even keep track of. She misses everyone and anyone. She can’t tell what is reality and what is a hallucination anymore. 

She needs to get out and if she dies in the process at least she tried, at least they all tried.

The fire alarm starts blaring and they search for Mona, finding her in a hole. She doesn’t think about how long Mona has been down there when she grabs the rope and pulls Mona out. They don’t have much time. Questions and answers later as she aids Mona and tries to get down the hall. There is a way out. They just need to find it. 

It’s Emily who locates the ladder that leads up. She uses all of her energy to get up as she trails Mona, making sure the poor girl doesn’t fall down. It’s not a normal way to live and they are all running on the very little energy they have left. Just enough to get them up and bust through the door.

There’s no fence this time. Just the night air. 

Freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/)


End file.
